With New Eyes
By Patrick Walts
“Quit sulking. You already knew what they’d say. Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to change their minds.”
Galen the Sixth sighed and lowered his head even further between his knees.
He remained in that position, silent, for several long moments before sitting up and looking at his friend.
Abdeel the Eighth was leaning against a bulkhead in the corner of observation deck 3, arms crossed, looking severely annoyed.
“I’m not thinking about myself,” said Galen. “No one on this ship will ever know what it’s like to walk on the surface of a planet because of the shortsighted religious convictions of a few zealots who think they know what’s best for all of us.”
Abdeel shot him a concerned look. “I hope you didn’t speak to the council like that.”
Galen waved dismissively and chuckled, shaking his head. “The Council,” he spat. Everyone’s so afraid of them.”
Galen snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m scared of them. Of course I am. Scared that they’ll keep us trapped in this floating prison until the end of time, or until it breaks down and everyone dies. Whichever comes first.”