Through the Looking Glass
Matthew stood under the shower as the hot water cascaded over his body. There was just something about early morning showers that he liked. “So invigorating,” he thought. He was glad that he had finally had a chance to make the trip to Galveston for vacation. It was something his family used to do when he was growing up. A visit to the beach, Sea Rim, and a day sailing was always the norm. Usually followed up by a trip to Houston to see the Astros, and if he was lucky, a trip to NASA headquarters. Even as a kid, he was interested in science, it shaped his career path.
Matthew smiled as he remembered afternoons at San Jacinto state park, shopping at the Galleria, nagging his sister as they saw the sights at the zoo. He even remembered being scared and fascinated by the Mummy exhibit he saw one summer at the Museum of Natural History. He reached for the soap, ready to start his day.
The disinfectant soap had a nauseating smell to it and felt like rough sandpaper on his skin. Matthew nearly always became sick when he was made to take the bio showers, but it was the standard operating procedure. He looked around at the sterile shower room and could hear some of his coworkers in the adjoining stalls, one was even singing. It blew Matthew’s mind as he scrubbed with the foul-smelling bar.
“Hey, Matthew.” A gruff voice called out, Matthew looked up and over. “You suppose that we’ll actually get inside the ship tomorrow like Dawson says?”
Matthew smiled wistfully, “I hope so Frank, the suspense is killing me!”
“Ship?” He thought absently. “What Ship?” He shook his head as he reached down to shut off the water to the shower. He pulled open the shower curtain, reached for a towel and stepped out.
“Shows you how much I needed this vacation.” He said out loud, thinking back. He walked over to the bathroom sink. He looked at the plain white walls, the larger mirror in front of him, the large counter and sparkling white toilet and grimaced. There were times that he felt that the hotel bathrooms were more than a little generic and boring. Then again, he supposed, the hotels were designed to be that way. He reached to open the medicine cabinet. How he hated shaving.
“Maybe I’ll just grow a beard,” he thought.
He grabbed the can of shaving cream and lathered his face. He then reached for the razor, wondering again why he just did not grow a beard. Or at least get an electric shaver. He leaned forward to the mirror to get a better look at his face.
Matthew looked baffled at his reflection in the shiny metal surface. Not a hint of seams or any sign of how the metal was attached together. It was almost as if it was one cylindrical piece. He wiped his forehead in frustration and pushed his glasses up. He stepped back and looked over at Dawson to his left standing several feet away examining the craft as well. He seemed to be perplexed as he was. Dawson looked up and started to say something.
“Guys!” Frank interrupted, calling out from the other side of the craft. “Come see this!”
Matthew blinked at his reflection in the mirror. “See what?” He sighed and noticed that he had nicked himself shaving. He opened the medicine cabinet to look at for something to stop the bleeding.
He saw a short, thin bright orange pill bottle on the bottom shelf and reached for it. He examined the label.
All he saw was his name and the instructions to take one a day in the morning. It surprised him that there was no other labeling on the bottle. No pill name, doctor or pharmacy was listed.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.