Limited Vision, the Human Frailty

Consoles dimly lit anxious faces from beneath. The vid screens had gone dark along with the overhead lights. With a flicker and a buzz the red emergency lights came to life. Harrigan looked grim, fingers drumming out a rhythm on his armrest.

“Eyes, people, I want eyes.” The tone said now, five minutes ago, and before I smack someone.

A single screen fizzled and rendered a gray image. Hurried seeking for meaning overlooked the obvious.

Harrigan barked, “What am I looking at?”

“Um, auxiliary mess hall, deck 17.”

The drumming stopped. Something defeated and vulgar came under the captain’s breath. After the tech at the console got an elbow to the ribs, the screen began to slide through available cameras, most showing shipwide destruction.

After a completely black screen came and went, Harrigan piped up, “Go back, two screens ago.”


“Two screens ago, and confirm that’s an exterior shot.”

“Aye sir.”

All eyes fixated to the small screen, our one remaining link to anything outside the bridge.

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