Debatable Space

Jamie

Wow! She’s hot.

What a babe! A beaut.

I wonder if she fancies me?

Maybe I’m too young for her.

Or at least, I look too young. Maybe ten was a mistake. If I was eleven, or twelve, maybe I could still be a player. But women hate it when your balls haven’t dropped and you don’t need to shave. How picky is that!!!!!!

I watch her on the hidden camera, as she shuffles from wall to wall. Her face is a frozen mask. That semi-coma must hurt like hell. I wish she could see me. Come on, look at me! Here I am! Jamie! The cute one!

Even semi-paralysed, she still does it for me. Hornnyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

I assume the Captain’s planning to kill her.

Pity.

Maybe I should call in and see her? Win her over with my banter and my rare ability to fart rhythmically?

But maybe not. She might think I’m immature. She might not like it when I pick my nose and slurp the green bogies.

But on the other hand… maybe I’m just too good for her.

I prefer that. I’m too good for her!

Nyaaahhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Brandon

“I… have… a… complaint,” she says.

“Take it up with the Captain,” I tell her.

“I… can’t…………………………………….”

I die of boredom waiting for her to finish her sentence.

“…………… eat.”

“I’ll inject you.”

I take out a compressed-air syringe. Connect it up to a food vial. She is looking at me with weary eyes.

“B……. r……. a……. a.”

“Brandon,” I say, ending her interminable attempt at speaking my name.

She looks at me. Her eyes are pools of sorrow. She radiates vulnerability, passion, grace, beauty, she is a woman a man could happily die for.

“You made your bed, lie in it,” I tell her curtly. I inject the food.

Her look curdles into one of pure hate. Speaking is too tiring for her, so she just uses the resources of her penetrating stare.

“M… y……. f……. a……. th…”

“I don’t want to hear about your father.”

I leave.

Behind me, I hear a stifled, semi-comatose sob. I feel a pang of pity for her.