Richard Begs Off

“I said we should look for some souvenirs for my parents,” Aria repeated herself to her distracted husband. He had not been himself since they’d disembarked onto the island.

“Sorry, baby. I’m getting a headache... I thought fresh air would help, but the sunlight is too much for me,” Richard moaned and rubbed his eyes.

Aria looked at him with concern. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he had a hangover. Her worry faded to a sympathetic smile. “Well, you kept us up all night... You probably just need some sleep. Why don’t you just go back to the room and rest?”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not worth risking a migraine. I’ll tag along with one of these tour groups. I’ll be fine.” She pat his chest and kissed his cheek.

Feeling guilty but relieved, he followed her advice, wandering about the ship for a while before going to his room. It felt different with so few passengers on it. He was curious about learning about the ship itself, perhaps talking to the captain or crew about it, confident that the audiobook on shipwreck diving he had just listened to—well, half of at least—would make the conversation go swimmingly. But his headache was too much so he retired to his room instead.

It had already been cleaned, thankfully. What prompt service! He laid down on top of the newly made bed and closed his eyes for several minutes, but sleep wasn’t coming. He groaned, sat up and looked at the TV. He clicked the remote. The screen remained black, or maybe a flickering dim grey, despite the white power indicator being on.

This would be a good time to get repair service for it. He wandered the ship again until he found a housekeeper and pestered them about it, then waited in his room for satisfaction.

A repair woman showed up promptly with a tool bag. “Room 75. You have an issue with the monitor?” The woman stood, a head shorter than Richard, in white workman coveralls that cinched nicely around the waist. Her blonde ponytail had a sky blue dyed streak through it that complemented her blue eyes. The patch indicated her name was “Zena”. She cracked her gum as she entered, assuming she was correct.

Richard backed away, letting her pass. “Yes...”

Zena dropped the tool bag on the bed and inspected the front and back of the monitor, talking as she did it. “Power’s good... connectors secure... storage media in place... no surface damage... Is this how it was when you first tried it?” She inspected the remote.

“It worked for a second... or maybe a few minutes... but the screen was garbled, then it went black... I think.”

Zena looked at Richard and squinted. “That’s it?” What else was there to say about it? Her probing gaze made him uncomfortable.

“Yeah...”

She cracked her gum again and stared a second longer. Abruptly she turned back to the screen. “I don’t like when these things glitch out...” she grumbled warily as she dug in her tool bag and took something out. Richard watched her put it on like a pair of glasses. It was more of a visor, really. The snug white plastic bezel matched her coveralls and framed her eyes nicely. “Cool! You look ready to DJ at a rave.”

She smirked at him as she raised a finger to a button near the visor’s hinge. The lenses dimmed instantly. Then she picked up the remote, held down the power button and started gesturing with it at the black screen. “Huh... safety mode was triggered.” She waved and twisted the remote in the air in front of her intently, but as far as Richard could discern, nothing was happening to the malfunctioning TV.

“Are you actually doing anything?” Richard couldn’t help but ask. He stepped back to not be in her way, casually appreciating the way her coveralls emphasized her narrow waist.

“It’s a DJ thing, you wouldn’t get it...” She leaned forward and began to murmur to herself, as if reading some kind of checklist. “Terminal 75... souvenir storage detected... streamlink confirmed... sub sttings... sub profile 75A and B... sequential mode... sub—” Her neck jerked back in surprise. “Eh? Fuck me... What the fuck happened here? Corrupted? This needs a full recalibration... Christ, that... is way out of whack!" She gestures quickly through some invisible process, grumbling through each step of it, so engrossed in her concerns that she momentarily forgot Richard was in the room. She reset safety mode.

Richard, standing behind her blinked rapidly as the screen flickered to life...

Richard felt woozy as he looked about in confusion. Zena had vanished. The TV was off... The visor was laying on the floor... And his crotch hurt? Why? He looked down. He was naked. Naked and sweaty. The bed was a total mess. AGAIN. He shook his head to clear his blurred vision and look at the clock. Four hours were missing...

Richard jumped up and looked for Zena in a stumbling panic but there was no sign of her in the room, unless he counted the unidentified fluids all over the bedding. Richard's blood pressure spiked with as anxieties began to roar from the back of his mind.

“OH FUUUUUUCK!” Richard put some of the pieces together just as he heard conversations and footfalls in the hall. The tourists were starting to return en masse.