The Space Spoon novel Chapter 83

"My name is Firion," the elderly guy stated as he stood up. His back was somewhat bent, but he was still very tall.

“I’m Shayla.” She nodded and then pointed toward the members of her crew. “They are C1313, Cato, and Jackeye.”

“Hmm, maybe you all really are real. Let me show you something.”

They followed him as he walked between the houses. The old man turned around and outstretched his arms as they approached the opposite side of the fictitious settlement.

“Behold the view that the Fishmen love so much!”

On this side, all the dwellings had no walls. Anyone could see inside the houses. Each had only three walls and a roof, and just a few of them had some wooden planks placed inside, most probably as beds.

Numerous questions swirled inside Shayla’s mind, and she didn’t know with which one to start.

“Fishmen?”

"Yeah." Firion scratched the back of his head. His backbone crackled. "An alien aquatic species, ugly motherfuckers. They come and stare at me through the glass wall. I think they see me as their pet or something."

"According to my data, people on certain planets keep fish in glass containers called fish tanks." C1313 shifted her weight and touched the translucent wall. "It seems to be a role reversal here. Someone is keeping air-breathing creatures in containers as pets."

"Missy, you summed things up rather well. When they come to visit, they wear bowls of water around their heads to enable them to breathe." The old man sat on a sloping wooden bench. "I constructed it myself from boards I found in buildings."

Shayla felt like a tourist visiting a museum. She was about to ask more questions when a whooshing sound came from the other side of their cage.

Seeing that they all turned their gazes toward it, Firion sighed. "It’s eating time, I guess. At regular intervals, one of the ducts drops food, mostly raw fish, sometimes seaweed, or water fruits. Maybe they think I need a varied diet." The old man stood up. He lifted a small net from the ground. "I’m not as strong as I used to be. Now I use this to drag everything from the dropping site near the ducts to my sleeping place."

“No need for you to do it now. We’ll help,” Shayla said, placing a hand over his wrinkled one.

They picked up the food and glass containers with water that landed safely in the sand. They ate and talked, but no one came up with an idea better than waiting for Tejeda and seeing what he would find on his trek through the ducts.

The old man regaled them with tales from his youth that had them laughing and feeling sympathetic. But the thought of being locked in here for the rest of their lives loomed heavily over them.

“How long have you been trapped in here?” Shayla asked.

The old man’s face darkened. "I can’t say for sure. I lost track of time long ago." He sighed as if trying to remember something. "I was 32 when I first set foot in this prison. How old do I look now?"