A cell phone rings underneath the fresh air suit of the recruit, Kenny, to which he responds with a sigh and an educated guess on where the ignore button he is more than happy to press.

“Claire can figure it all out on her own. She’s a grown-ass woman.” Kenny thinks to himself, knowing the tight time frame that is set for the job today. He doesn't have time for this; no one has time for anything else other than focusing on the demo and getting this radioactive garbage on the road to the labs that it will call home until it is no longer needed or until at least three lab techs go mad trying to figure out the impossibilities that are constructed into the mechanics of this craft. Yes, Kenny, Claire is going to be on her own for a bit.

There are several other jobs that Kenny could have gotten. Still, none could pay as much as a Make Ready Tech with the Interdimensional Industrial Research Union (I2RU as advertised with the patch on the left shoulder of their union-issued jumpsuits). And it’s not like he never tried from being a line cook while at University to his degreed field in theoretical physics at the university that he is an alumnus. Now, in his position, he makes ten times as much money than any of the other ones paid. This job will set him and his sister, Claire, up for the rest of their lives, but she has got to get used to him being off planet and he has got to get used to the long hours in actuallity and the alien types of radioactivity that his old studies tought him as mere thoeries.

This is Kenny’s second job since orientation, but he has already heard a few of the veterans say that this was job was by far the dirtiest before joyfully sending him in with snark in their voice.

Listening more to the dogs he can still hear on the outside then in his own footing, Kenny slightly slips in some old goo, but is saved by a hanging cord .

“Fuck my life today. Fuck this shit. Let’s get this fucking shit done already.” Kenny says with a suppresed irritation and continues as serene as his anger will alow him, “Center yourself, Kenney. Find that center. I’m not done yet.”

The lights flicker in an alarming way and have become the only source of light as he continues to go deeper into the ship wreckage. The globulars of slime come and go to insinuate that what he kept slipping and sliding on were once alive. He will never be able to get used to the nausia that occompanies this realization. All he can do is stop, breathe, and find his center of focus.

Despite all of this, the verbal abuse from corporate, and the slothy ignorance of his supervisors, Kenny pushes on to silence the voices in his head that influences the crippling fear of not being able to pay his bills. Despite all of this, he pushes forward in the dark spaces of the wreckage knowing that Claire will never have to worry about anything for the rest of her life.