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The Chia Room

Main Ingredients:
chia seeds
tennis ball

Spice Pack:
1/4 smidge of anger
1 teaspoon of depression
1/3 dollop of jealousy
1/8 dash of ennui

You’d think that whacking a tennis ball around a court the size of a football field would wear you out. But it doesn’t, of course. Low gravity. A game up here takes virtually the same number of calories as an earthside game.

Physical activity does help fight the blues a little. But it’s hard to keep my mind off the fact that my mechanical opponent’s moves are so predictable. Honestly if there’s one thing I’d want for sure in my next data shipment from home, it’s a bit of randomness in the robots, a few errors. The engineers think we crew are machines, too!

I spend a lot of time looking through the airlock at the cows. I’m jealous of the companionship they have.I don’t know what insanity the planners thought we humans would fall into -- but they never allow us near the livestock or the food plants, that’s all done by machines. Even the cheese making. And the bread baking. Because it contains live cultures. What? Are we going to corrupt them? Learn from them? Conspire with them?
Machines burn the vast majority of the food for fuel, too. This place was built for 80 people, and now it’s just me. There’s no way to scale back production.

I keep it together pretty much. It is true that I sometimes stare into the chia room -- a large chamber with a light source in the middle and luxuriant sprouts on floor, ceiling and walls -- and I wish I could jump in there and roll around. But I don’t.

I just grill up another fricking cheese fricking sandwich.
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