Carpe Diem

Algodon made his way to the workhouse, dreading the next few steps that he was about to take. His joints ached. His back hurt. He's pretty sure part of his sentience fell out when his forehead did. If the name 'workhouse' had anything to do with what qualified as work in these parts, he's sure more laborious tasks awaited him before he could get any rest. He let out a low singing tune resembling a sigh. When he arrived at the workhouse, he noticed a few things. The doorframe was far too small for his broad figure. There weren't many workers. The shell unit where the place was nestled was old and rickety like an old rusted spacecraft. The main hall wasn't very big. It was a standard cafeteria, really. Metal benches with metal tables. When Algodon had entered there was a faint smoke filling the room. Finally, there was a distinct smell of sulfur coming from what he presumed was the kitchen. 

"Peterson, mind the cooking will ya?" shouted one of the patrons in the main hall. "It smells like a Sphinxes' buttox in here!"

"Sorry!" Squeeked from the kitchen area followed promptly by a clattering of pots and pans. Algodon made his way to the counter where there seemed to be a commerce station. He tapped at the screen, really who used a screen anymore? Algodon could only imagine how outdated the rest of the shell unit was. Judging from its appearance, it must be very low-tech. The screen did not respond to his touch. He slapped the side of it. Nothing. 

One of the patrons noticed his plight and noticed him altogether. It was evident that a Geminidi was not a common sight, what with all the gawking. Algodon lowly hummed. Soon, every head was turned to him with mouths agape. Algodon tried to take it as a compliment. One patron, an elderly man, shook himself out of his stupor and gave Algodon a meaningful look. He tilted his chin toward the kitchen and raised his glass toward the crystalis. 

"Yer gonna haf'ta talk to the kid." he slurred, then drank the rest of his pint. Algodon murmured his thanks and made for the back. The smell of sulfur only increased as he walked closer to the source. Upon entering the kitchen, Algodon saw a young man perhaps in his late twenties, that is if Algodon knew his human age range right. He had whiskers on his chin and his hair was stuck up all over the place. He was lanky, blonde-haired, and brown-eyed. Just in front of him was a flame up to his brow coming from a pan on top of the stove. Algodon felt pity. He moved and found a cover about the size of the pan and quickly placed it on top. The flame died down immediately and just before singeing the eyebrows off of the young man. 

Not looking up, Peterson took the covered pot and took it off of the stove and placed it in the nearest sink. His shoulders sagged and he let himself flop down to the ground reminding Algodon a bit of a fish sucking its last breath out on land. 

"Thank you–Gah!" he exclaimed as brown eyes settled on the hulk of clear crystal towering over him. Peterson scrambled up. 

"Algodon, if you please." Said the crystalis extending his hand out in what he recalled was a handshake humans seemed to be so fond of. Peterson slowly held his own hand out and grasped the geminidi's. 

"Thank you, Algodon. You're–uh, huge– ." Peterson stammered. 

"A huge talking gem? Yes, I seem to get that a lot around here." Algodon said giving Peterson a firm handshake, but might have squeezed a bit too hard. 

"I was gonna say 'a huge help,' I swear. I'm Pete." Peterson replied trying to hide the fact that he was nursing his hand a little. Perhaps Algodon felt a bit bad about that, but his need for some form of regeneration took precedence. 

"Pete, I don't suppose you're in charge of giving out rooms are you?" Algodon said with a low hum. Peterson nodded his head. 

"Yeah, we're kinda the village inn or halfway house. We offer rooms for any in need." Peterson said.

"Well, Pete. I'm certainly in need of a place to stay, can I have a room? What's the price?" The geminidi said. 

"Oh uh– no price– well, that is we don't accept currency here." Peterson explained. "Our terminal busted a long time ago and we never got to fixing it. So payment's an errand, but you don't have to worry about that right now, I'll–uh– get you logged in." Peterson's words washed over Algodon like a hailstorm. The young man was certainly the nervous sort. Peterson made a motion that indicated Algodon was to follow. The man squirmed past Algodon, who took up the majority of the room space. He made his way to a locker and opened it up to a set of keycards holo-punched and handed one of them to Algodon. "Here, for room 222, stairs are to the left of the bar and it's just down the way."

"That's it? What if I were to run off without doing this errand of yours?" Algodon asked, exasperated. Peterson blinked innocently.

"Where would you run? Only town for miles, and port's closed too." Peterson stated genuinely confused. Algodon hummed lowly once more. The young man had a point. Two, actually.

"Well. Thank you, Pete." said Algodon. Peterson nodded again and made some kind of gesture with his hands and scurried off back to the kitchen. Algodon looked around and found the stairs. With languid movements he picked his legs up to climb the rickety stairs to the hallway. He moved as quickly as his feet would carry him scanning the doors as he passed. He moved to the end of the corridor and found the desired number. Swiping his card against the reader, the door slid open to reveal a bed in a corner, a shower, sink, and toilet in another. It was cramped, but for Algodon it truly was impeding. He wedged himself through the door, scraping the sides of the frame as he went. He made it a few meters into the room before the door slid shut. Algodon barely fit next to the bed, which was part of a wall unit that he surely did not fit in either. After wrestling with the wall unit and the shower and sink, Algodon settled to sit on the toilet. He was out as soon as the automated flush sounded.

—

The next day Algodon woke to knocking at his door. Algodon's whole body felt sore as he clambored up out of the toilet he used as a seat to the door only a few meters away. The door slid open to reveal Peterson, hair still sticking out on all sides. Algodon hummed. 

"Algodon, good morning!" he said with a smile. Algodon noted he had crooked teeth. 

"Is it?" Algodon craned his head downward to look at Peterson better as the door frame was far too small for a creature of Algodon's size. "What an interesting estimate."

"Ah, well, yes. Did you sleep well? Erm, that is, if you sleep." Peterson stammered. Algodon hummed again, adjusting his shoulder to fit outside the frame and pushed himself outside the room where the door slid shut unceremoniously. 

"I sleep. The toilet is quite comfortable." He said this over his shoulder as his back was turned to Peterson revealing a wet stain on poor Algodon's trousers. 

"The toilet..?" Peterson trailed off. He caught sight of the wet trousers and shook his head very obviously confused. Algodon hummed once more, not willing to explain the situation of the previous night and continued onward.

"You came to see me?" he questioned. Peterson took himself out of thought by snapping his fingers with his right hand to his ear. 

"Ah, right! I figured out a favor for the commodities." Peterson exclaimed happily. 

"And that would be?" Algodon did not like the cheeriness of the person before him. It was much too early. In addition, he had far too much to do. Repair his pod communications, call down his ship, assess that said ship, find out what caused the anomaly, etc. etc. This was another task, it seemed, to add to the list. 

"Cooking!" Peterson piped. 

"Cooking?" Algodon replied. 

"Well, to be more specific we're going to be fishing. So here–" he picked up a rod he had placed by the door and took off something from the side of his pocket. "There's a rod, and here–" Peterson took advantage of Algodon's inclined head and plopped something on it. "a hat! My great granddad's lucky fishing hat. We're going to need it."

Algodon let out another hum resembling a sigh as he took the fishing rod from Peterson's hands and patted his head that now had a fabric bucket atop it. At least it covered his missing forehead while he regenerated, he thought. Peterson walked past his large new companion and picked up another nearby rod and a bucket full of what Algodon suspected was the bait. It certainly looked…mushy. 

"We're headed out in a few minutes, so if there's anything you need to get." Peterson shrugged his shoulder toward the downstairs common room. "I'll be at the front door." And he sauntered off. 

Algodon couldn't believe his luck. Dissonance be damned! he thought. A crystalis did not 'cook' nor did his species ever need to 'fish.' They regenerated by sleeping in stasis pods and absorbing the solar harmonic waves like perfectly normal geminidi. Well, he thought, at least I'll learn something new. Then he followed Peterson's trail down the stairs. Algodon scoffed. What's next? They season food with minerals? And he wondered if any species could be so barbaric.