AKA: Ang! [Rhymes with 'Sang']
Sci-fi novelist, STEM gal, certified dork, and someone who can't wait to live in the future.
New 'The Cosmic Donut' stories coming imminently...
The space station hung in the quiet, empty corner of the sector between the M’toh Republic and the Amn Democracy. It was not a pretty station, nor one that won any practical design awards. The station, more properly referred to as Graygante Station, had a bulbous kind of upper portion that made up the majority of the station’s residential districts, business offices, and the observation deck. The blobby portion was cut off neatly by a weird, flat cylinder that had most of the station’s shops and restaurants, underneath which had all of the factories and repair shops in a dozen or so odd cuboids of various widths and lengths that terminated in long, spindly antenna-looking docks. Graygante had once been described by a passing philosophy student as a “jellyfish wearing a corset,” which made the local tourism agency furious, until one of their more apathetic members pointed out that it was a correct observation.
Gaius Finn’s alarm was blaring and loud, demanding his attention at the unholy hour of 6:17am. He didn’t even bother trying to open his eyes, haphazardly slapping his nightstand as he tried to find the snooze button. Just five more minutes was all he needed, then he would get up and go to work. Mind-numbing, soul-destroying, number-crunching work.