“If I had arms, I would point it at the ground and pull on the handle,” Spenglactic said to Space Janitor (023). The author subtly dropped the “the” from Spenglactic because he forgot if he were to still use it or not. He decided against.
Space Janitor did as he was told. He pulled down on the handle, nothing happened.
“Nothing’s happening,” said Space Janitor.
“Obviously I can tell, it’s part of me. Did I tell you to pull the chord?” said Spenglactic. Space Janitor’s eyes widened. From his perspective, the ground was coming up to meet him rather than him flying down towards it. Either way one of them was going too fast for Space Janitor to survive the oncoming collision. “I’m going to take that silence as a no. Mutt there’s a chord I need you to pull for me. Reach up and grab it and pull down hard. I’d move lightning fast too. My sensors tell me that you’re going to go splat.”
Space Janitor reached and got it in his hand. He pulled, but it came loose in his hand.
“Nothing,” said Space Janitor. He resigned himself to the fact his life was to be smooshed on a literal pavement of progress.
“You’re treating it like a prom date. You gotta get your fingers and give it a yank,” said Spenglactic.
Space Janitor reached and pulled again. Nothing, there was no change.
“Get stuck in there, hold on let me try something,” Spenglactic said.
“We’re going to crash,” said Space Janitor. He thought about some of the cool adverts he saw on his travels through the station.
“Get your hand ready. Only when I say when,” said Spenglactic. Space Janitor got his hand in position. “Ready?” Space Janitor nodded. “When”. Spenglactic fired a jolt of electricity into Space Janitor’s back. Space Janitor saw a pedestrian frozen to the spot watching the approach. The shock caused an arm spasm. Janitor yanked the chord. The Spenglactic roared to life. “Now, the handle”
Space Janitor 023
