march 4, 2021

pe woke up next to his bed. he had fallen off of it again. glancing 
over at his window, which was covered by thin, floral curtains. he 
could tell from the lack of light that it was still too early. just 
before dawn, probably.

pe got dressed and walked along the blue polished floor towards the 
kitchen, counting his steps on the way there. it had become a habit 
for pe to count his steps. he didn't know why. maybe it was fun or 
something. it takes 15 steps to get to the kitchen. it used to take 9, 
but that was back before he relied on coffee to give him energy.

grabbing a moonclay coffee mug from a cabinet, pe wondered why they 
had to be so heavy. he filled it with coffee, which had been brewed 
automatically via timer. he took a sip. a dark, earthy taste. not good 
by any means, but the best you can get in this sector. he set it down 
for a moment to draw some blinds. the sun was starting to rise. that's 
the nice thing about living on a dry moon: no clouds. every morning is 
light and full of vitamin d. it's not the best for the skin, by any 
means, but water is available to purchase, and the body adapts to the 
climate.

pe finished up his coffee, and noticed that the mug started to lighten 
up a bit. gravity wasn't pulling him down as hard as it used to. the 
caffeine was working.

checking the led warning panel, pe noticed that only the white bulb 
was lit. white: "dust warning". not only was the moon dry. it was 
dusty. practically *made* of dust! the dust was a metallic pink, when 
the storms act up, they look like huge spools of cotton candy from 
a distance.

pe put on his dust suit. he needed to go out today. yesterday he had 
built a microcomputer that could calculate precise routes for 
inter-planetary travel for self-driven supply ships. right now it's 
sort of possible, but it's very labour-intensive, and is not at all a 
mature industry. of course, one night out is good enough to test to 
see if it works, and although it may *survive* a dust storm, whether 
or not it's anchored down well enough is another question. it could 
get blown away, or at least buried, pretty easily, seeing how small 
it is.

"usually 'dust warning' just means something light. visual 
obstruction and whatnot", thought pe. the computer was less than a 
300 steps out, just on a hill. the dust started rising from the 
ground. a common occurance on this moon.

pe reached the device, and unscrewed it from its unprofessionally 
flimsy mount. taking it home, he realized that the dust was making it 
hard to see. he couldn't see his house off in the distance. that's 
alright though, this happens almost every day. pe knew his way around 
this moon like the back of his hand. he just had to walk straight from 
here.

all of a sudden, the dust started to shift colour. from a metallic 
pink to a deep black. like ash. pe started to panic. the dust storm 
was bad enough. he didn't need anything he wasn't already familiar 
with! his walk turned to run turned to sprint, wondering what sort of 
chemical anomaly had just happened, that could change the colour of 
an entire moon!

He could start to make out the outline of his house. "finally", he 
thought, "back home". he openede the door and closed it behind him, 
checking the warning lights again. still just white.

turning, pe saw something that struck him with fear. in the center of 
his living room, stood a figure. it was almost human, but pe couldn't 
make out the details. it was like seeing something out of the corner 
of your eye, even though you're looking right at it.

it looked at pe, and spoke in a voice that almost sounded like 
radio static. "y...ou. have something th...at i need"

"what? you mean this thing?" pe asked, revealing the transport 
calculator.

"n...o. some-ing important"

"i... don't understand what you mean!" pe replied, slightly offended 
that the intruder implied his calculator was "unimportant".

the being started to blur out even more, and then vanished. looking 
out the window, pe saw that the dust was pink again.

on the table, pe noticed a class-9 audio diskette. the kind given out 
to government officials on densely populated planets. there was no 
label on it, but it was ancient. this diskette could probably only 
record 20 seconds of audio, if that.

digging around, pe found a vintage diskette reader, and threw in the 
tape. it was an audio recording from a conversation, but just a clip.

"... and don't forget to ask for some sugar. it's *important*! these 
cookies have to be *sweet*!"

"technology", thought pe, "i'll never be able to keep up with it."