“Space Cadet!” a young operative yelled out across the chow hall. “Come, sit over here.”

The chow hall was packed with operatives who were quickly shoveling nutritional paste into their mouths. It tasted like someone made pudding out of shit, but it kept your body running. Some operatives showed that blank stare of freshly completed assignments while others showed that wild fire that blazes in anticipation of an upcoming Jump. Space Cadet walked over to the empty seat beside the rookie.

“Hello, Zippo, how’s the arson trade?” Space Cadet asked.

“Ha, not too bad.” The rookie Zippo responded. “Haven’t done a burn in a few weeks, actually. I was just telling Pile-up here about how I earned my name. Your story, I think, is much better.”

“Really?” Pile-up, so named for his aptitude in causing precision car accidents, asked. “How’d you get named ‘Space Cadet’?”

“Well,” Space Cadet began, “my very first mission was a Jump into an astronaut. I had to kill, by sabotage, a group of geniuses.. in outer space.”