Space Nursery
A Sci-Fi Story
Pilot, please report to the autonomic astronav unit.
Pilot, please report to the autonomic astronav unit.
I waited for Maria longer than usual. She usually would vanish for only minutes at a time, sometimes lingering to play with another one of the children in the nursery, but eventually, she’d always come back to me, at least for a little while.
I haven’t seen her all day, which was strange. Today, I turn six in standard years. The nursery was quiet. I usually play by myself or with Maria when she comes she takes me to sit by the window. She balances me on her lap and sings me the names of all the stars we see swiftly drift by us as the space station spins. I can name them all myself now. It’s my favorite game to play — who can name the stars first. When I win, she gives me a hug and wipes the smudges of chocolate off my chin or shines the metallic patch on my forehead. We laugh together too.
I sat by the window mumbling star names to myself when the pressurized nursery bay doors hissed open. I turned to look. It wasn’t Maria, as I’d hoped. It was the director. She had stern, dark eyes. I had never seen her smile, even though she often spent all day with Maria. Whenever I see her, I turn away, and look out the window, and try not to make a sound. I almost shrieked when she tapped my shoulder.
