“Well,” said Shep looking down at the Space Janitor (088). “It’s clear that we need to wake him up. If he can be. I hope he’s not dead.”
“You changed your tune,” said Spenglactic.
“Well I mean, he could be my only way of getting out of here. I know that sounds bad but, didn’t he come and get me when he didn’t have to? That’s mighty kind of him,” Shep said, looking down at the Space Janitor.
“That’s beautiful, poetic almost. You really should consider a transfer to something more befitting of your skills. I don’t think he’s dead. There are pressure pads registering shifts in weight. If anything feels like the guy is hanging on. You gotta wake him,” Spenglactic advised.
“How do you think I can wake him?” asked Shep. Space Janitor was breathing. The breath was almost imperceptible to a standard vision range. The chest, however, was moving. It filled Shep with hope although he knew that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Or out of the puddle.
“I can tell you how to do it but to be honest with you, you’re not going to like it.” Spenglactic teased.
“Tell me what to do, come on,” said Shep.
“Well, the thing is, you got to bark at him,”
“C’mon, don’t make me bark. You know how demeaning that is. You know what we say about barkers? Please, please, please. Can you not shock him or something. You must have a little wire somewhere in there,”
“This is how it’s gotta be,” said Spenglactic.
Shep did not want to bark. On some level, he knew there was a chance that Spenglactic knew he did not want to bark. This was some kind of bizarre test or some kind of retribution.
Shep was reluctant, but what choice did he have in the end?
****
Would you mind reading from the beginning because it’s a fantastic place to start. You can find the first instalment of Space Janitor by clicking here.
