Hey ho, it’s Sunday morning and the breakfast of fantasy is from the promised, pristine, and oh-so sanitary, space-wheel-and-moonbase future of a decade past in which HAL 9000 opened the pod bay door on request from Dave. Today, in the USA, the clocks went forward but most else resisted any similar motion, except maybe cell phone technology. Do I miss these worlds-to-be that never-were? Do I feel deprived? Many yes, but maybe not this one. It was all a little too clean. The food was too white or too pinky beige, and far too symmetrical. Like a bleached version of a kind of rice flour and high fructose corn syrup maybe from Japan or India, or some part of the Mediterranean, except bleached of all color, in a molded plastic tray with built-in juice boxes and completely devoid of sauce, condiments or gravy. Hardly an appropriate follow-up to any imagined night of floating-bubble-sweat, free-fall, zero-g, orbital debauchery high on speedballs of narcotics and stimulants yet to be invented, where only space could hear your co-mingled screams. Yes, my friends, in space there will be no bacon.
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The secret word is Velcro
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8 comments:
I felt like the world of Science Fiction film was saved by Alien. The future as a failed version of the 2001 world; crummy and treacherous and driven by greed and stupidity. Pretty much the way the future turned out.
The Nostromo was a much more plausible spaceship in that it vented steam, leaked oil, dripped condensation while the crew bitched about their bonuses.
no bacon? what about on the off world colonies?
And what about "Pigs In Space"?
Pigs in space aren't pigs, they're interstellar-swine, hence, bacon's inexistence... In space, it's just ham, no matter how you cook it.
You order like, "I'd like some friend ham-strips, please."
err... "fried ham-strips, please."
no pig, maybe, but plenty of long pig for face huggers and their pals
In space no-one can hear you squeal
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