Translation into realspace is always a somewhat jarring experience at the best of times, but this particular instance makes Jack sick to his stomach despite his many years of space travel.
It's not so much the fact that the mass of your body is being pushed and pulled in ways that make you feel like a human accordion that gets to Jack. Nor is it the acute sense of vertigo, like you are being tossed out from the highest mountain peak imaginable.
These are feelings that Jack know and handles as easily as any normal person might handle a slight breeze in their face or an inconveniently timed rain shower.
No, the sickness in Jack's stomach is a result of this particular jump into the normal realm of physics having missed the contents of Jack's stomach.
The phenomenon of temporary, local space-time distortion, or "the jumpies" as it is commonly known, when returning to slower-than-light travel, is well known to a veteran space traveler like Jack, of course. Small pockets that continue to travel at faster-than-light speed for just a fraction of a second longer than the space around them.
Jack once saw the captains Great Dane caught in such a pocket. That case had ended with the big dog being launched across the bridge of the ship, smashing into a command console with such force that the bridge crew was still finding lumps of fur in their controls to this day.
Fortunately for Jack, this case of the jumpies is a lot more benign than the incident that ended the life of poor "Snuggles".
For a moment Jack is even convinced that he'll be able to fight it off.
A buzz at the door announces a visitor and as the door slides away Jack sees the familiar face of his colleague, Eric. Smiling, Eric takes a step into Jack's quarters and looks at his friend, who is looking unusually concentrated.
"That was a nice smooth jump, eh Jackie boy?", Eric announces.
It is then that Jack makes a critical error of judgement, as he decides to answer Eric. Parting his lips seems to be just the opportunity his stomach had been waiting for. In his mind Jack hears himself saying "Well, I dunno about that, mate.", but all that his ears hear is "W..BWWWAURRGGHHGA!", as a jet of vomit spews from his mouth at a speed so fast that he swears there's a supersonic boom ringing throughout the small room.
The spray hits the opposite wall, narrowly missing Eric's head by mere inches but hitting him all across the face with the force of the recoil.
Eric blinks sheepishly, his mouth opening and closing like a surprised fish that's just been thrown onto the deck of a boat. After a couple of seconds he regains enough cognitive capability to form a single sentence; "I'll...I'll come back later, shall I?".
Jack wipes his mouth with the back of a trembling hand, a passing dry heave making his shoulders convulse.
"...Yeah...A little later, Eric...", Jack manages to gasp. "Fucking space travel...I just hope these folks appreciate the pepperoni pizza..."
Subscribe in a reader
No comments:
Post a Comment