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        The Babel Fish is a most peculiar creature. At least that’s what the Captain thought the first time she saw the fish floating, its colorful gills flying delicately like curtains caught in wind. Insert it into your ear, and it’ll rest in your mind, translating alien languages into familiar ones. Fascinating beings, truly.

        Thankfully there is no wind in space, it made the creature look like a leech.

        Crystalline lights flash above for a beat, stirring the ship's control room into blackness yet again. Trying not to yawn - the Captain stirs creamer in her coffee. She thinks of all the thousand alien species she had to learn during training.  She doesn’t remember much, except the Babel Fish, and maybe some. 

        Her crew is full of them, like John, whose hair has a mind of its own - quite literally. Whenever he runs a wandering hand into the red locks they...what was it again? The Captain grabs the official Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, thumbing through the pages. Aha - their red locks stick in every direction and float beautifully. 

        Beautiful is one way to describe it.

        Sighing, she calmly steers the ship's wheel. Yesterday her crew missed the star they were supposed to land on. They missed a giant, blue star that resulted in months of planning to go to waste. As the captain of the ship, she should’ve paid attention and now her rookie mistake made her feel like an imbecile.

        The holographic clock reads 7:34 - way too early, but she can’t sleep. The blue hue emitting from the clock lights up the control panel. She squints, then gives up. She’s been giving up quite a lot nowadays.

        Staring at the large, looking glass of their ship feels comforting - but it’s not enough. It doesn’t change the fact that they missed a star. Will the control group back on Earth notice?

        Probably not, they have better things to do.

        Once Earth hit it’s millionth birthday, people stopped counting. Plus, everyone was far too busy to celebrate Christmas, New Years or any other ‘pointless’ holiday. Everything was so...advanced. It was intimidating.

        There remained no government, no condescending authority. There was an Order; no one knew exactly who or what they were. Every month, they would present an ‘outstanding idea that puts any other idea to shame’, and people always followed. The Captain didn’t know how they announced their ideas, but once they were out, it spread like wildfire. Within minutes everyone knew what they were doing that month.

        Of course, you can choose to not follow. 

        There was this boy, Bobby. He refused to help harvest moonstones, the new resolution of the month. He was ostracized, driven to his death by the judging eyes of society. Of course, the harvesting of moonstones advanced agriculture in ways people did not expect. That’s what the ideas were like, constantly improving, constantly advancing society to primp up people’s egos. 

        Someway or another, you’re obligated to follow.

        No one would have guessed Earth would survive for this long, especially after the War of Woe, the war that would end all wars.

        The Captain chuckled. “The war that would end all wars, huh.”

        Sighing, her eyes trailed over the small wooden bookshelf. The only evidence of trees she’ll ever see. Once, the earth was beautiful. The history books read green magnificence, mountains big enough that mere humans couldn’t fathom, colorful blasts of petals that grew from within the soil. In her world, there was no soil.

        The War of Woe left the earth in stones. Though, calling it a war did it no justice; it was nothing but hatred, greed and hidden shame displaying its greatest virtues on people and blinding them. It went on for years, until The Order surfaced. Some people call them saviors; some call them traitors.

        The Order found Earth in its most vulnerable state, molded the people to their liking and now dominates everyone by calling it a simple ‘idea’. Even with this, they’re still doing a much better job than the old government. 

        The Captain didn’t know what to think. Were they traitors? Who knows. They definitely did some saving. Either way, she didn’t and still doesn’t care what people think. Call her petty, but she chose to leave Earth for a reason. It’s better to waste her life away in unknown territory than Earth, her supposed home. Earth was barely a house.

        Her ship though, it was home. Not a cozy one but it was functional.

        Once children turn eighteen, they get a choice. Perhaps a choice that will determine all other choices they’ll make. Society functions flawlessly, everyone has a job they’re obligated to do for the rest of their lives. Once their jobs are given to them, their names are completely erased from their identity and they go by their position in society. That is, until they’re old and withered, and considered ‘too wise’ to continue. For the Captain, she chose to abandon her old name and devote her life to anything but Earth. 

        The Captain remembers the discussions in history class, humans in the olden days wrote ‘theory’ books about what would happen in the future. Some were true, some were not. For example, The Giver, Lois Lowry was considered one of the greatest historians of all time. That book still irks the Captain to this day, especially the tone change in the middle of it. As if there was hidden, built up anticipation only for the main character to continue his simple, mundane life.

Shaking her head, the Captain remembers how thankful she is that she no longer has to deal with the mundane. It was thrilling, discovering life forms no one has ever seen before. Space had mind blowing capabilities that caused one to abandon all logic.

        “Captain...erm, I have a problem.”

        The Captain flinches, she was so deep in thought that she forgot where she was.

        Chief Engineer Gubbins’ tone is full of such pure, unadulterated anguish that the Captain, fearing the worst, quickly turns around. “What?” she says, stomach churning.

        Holding a vase, Gubbins sprints across the entirety of the ship. It’s not a far distance but she, being 4’3, makes it seem so. Do not tell her that though - or you will risk certain wrath. The Captain remembers telling her to run faster or they would all be toast - they were at a new planet they discovered and the Captain was certainly not expecting a three headed sheep that breathed fire. The ship crew was left with an endlessly sulky chief engineer for the better part of a month.

        Her people - whatever people that may be - are tremendously talented at sulking.

        “My plant died!” Gubbins cries, sulking.

        The Captain raises a brow, “Did you water it Gubbins?”

        “No,”

        “Well, then your plant is dead,” says the Captain.

        And that’s how monday passes, like every other dull monday - or just day on the ship. The Captain changes the route a few times, hoping that the people back home are occupied with the new idea she sent out after the Babel Fish whispered it into her ear - the idea that put any other idea to shame - and not busy with the ship heading towards its final destination. 

        The big, red exit door of the galaxy.