Staring out of the window of the space passenger liner, “The Great Divide”, Psyrus Granger couldn’t help but let out a big yawn.
Many of the stars that he has seen in recent years during the construction of the new space colony UC87 have been the ones surrounding the colony.
The same stars and constellations circled UC87 as they had been performing some sort of waltz for eons. “Just the same old shit over and over again.” Psyrus muttered. He shifted a little in his chair and tugged the buttons of his shirt collar, and he attempted to loosen his tie. He stopped in mid-action, grunted, and then shifted his eye sight onto the attache sitting in his lap.
Growing up in the so-called “scrapyard” section of the Human Empire, he never cared much for suits and ties.
Sifting through his dirty blond, long and somewhat straw like hair roughly, he let out a sigh. Once again he changed his focus from trying to keep up with his appearance to the attache, and the item that’s kept inside. His blue eyes were filled with excitement; when the stewardess came and ask him about his choice for dinner (neither fish nor chicken sounded appetizing), he looked away for a quick second and asked for the fish.
He frowned as the same young woman walked by for probably the 20th time toward the back of the liner. Too much water? Too young to get a drink! Psyrus gave a sardonic smile, mostly to himself as he was sure the young lady, who couldn’t have been more than 15 or 16 years old, didn’t pay attention to him at all. Not that he desired attention from her.
An old man like myself isn’t supposed to start a show these days. The kids will get bored. He mused. Isn’t it about time for that to begin?