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***Quick note, keep in mind that most of these stories do take place in the future, albiet, not too far in the future.***

Bex grimaced as he worked. He had to keep telling himself all day that the humans would eventually run out of material and stop. Surely they couldn’t do this all day?

“Who cares what they’re wearing On Main Street, Or Saville Row,” Humans Carrie and Evan trilled, “It’s what you wear from ear to ear And not from head to toe That maaaaaaaatters…”

Humans were one of the largest species that worked on the crew, besides biets like himself and a few others, but Bex could swear that they must have the largest body-to-lung ratio, because they had been singing for hours and unfortunately, there was no end in sight. There wasn’t really anything he could do about it either, as the humans were still managing to accomplish their tasks as they sang. Their multi-tasking skills were not as appreciated as they normally were in this particular circumstance.

“So senator, so janitor, step out for a while. Remember you’re never fully dressed, though you may look your best! You’re never fully dressed without a smiiiiiiiiiiiile!”

He sighed and stepped back to file the report on the piping he had just serviced for the ship’s hydro-cooling system. As he entered the information, he noticed another figure came around the corner.

“Hey Bex!” A cheery voice made him look up. It was the other human on the crew, Momo, or at least, that’s what everyone called her. She caught sight of the other humans and greeted them just as cheerily as she approached Bex.

“I’ve got a couple things for you from level three that Marb wanted sent up. As well as this,” She handed over a datapad that, to Bex’s chagrin, was full of lists of more projects that needed his and his team’s prompt attention. Fantastic. More time he got to spend with the melodious duo. He took the tools and packages Marb had sent with a resigned thanks to Momo. He supposed he should try to consider himself lucky that the songs, as strange and weird as they may be to him, had helped keep the humans focused and working at high-efficiency. Still.

“Sorry for the noise,” he gruffed to Momo. “Hope they haven’t been bothering anyone nearby.”

“Oh, what? The singing?” Momo laughed. “Not to worry, I don’t think anyone’s really minded.” She turned to address Carrie and Evan. “I think I recognize the song though. It’s from a musical, right?”

“Yeah, from Annie!” Carrie piped up. “You’ve seen it?”

Momo’s smile spread across her face and exposed her shiny teeth. Bex held back a slight shiver and mentally reminded himself that it was a friendly and happy gesture among humans. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.”

“Did you ever watch the new one?” Evan asked.

“New?” Momo shook her head. “That movie’s almost as old as me. I haven’t seen that one. I’ve seen the older ones. I like the one with Carol Burnette as Miss Hannigan.”

“Ooh, that one’s my favorite!” Carrie squealed. She stepped back from her work and pulled her arms close to her like she was trying to avoid touching something revolting. “Little girls, little girls, everywhere I look I can see them,” she sang in a withered, warbled voice. 

Momo laughed and responded with a dramatic flare, “Some women are drippin’ with DIA-monds! Some women are drippin’ with pearls!”
Then they all three sang. “Lucky me, lucky me, look at what I’m drippin’ with - LIIIIIIITTTLE GIIIIIIIIIIRLS!!!!” and then all three burst into laughter at what must have been some inside joke among humans before they started in on some other song.

Bex sighed. The words, “Lucky me, lucky me,” certainly seemed to hit a chord with him right about now.

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We stand on ice that feels much too thin,
six feet suddenly feeling like miles.
Our footing is loose on this shaky ground,
and the cracks can be heard all around.

I see the fearmongering, the conspiracies,
the boredom and the sadness of separation,
the blame and the vitriolic remarks -
yet amidst it all, I also see sparks.

They reside in the eyes of the kind, the saints,
they light the fires in our heroes’ hearts.
They shocked the minds that took this crazy race to space,
and they’ll carry us out of this frightening place.

They kindle the muse in the artists,
keeping everyone as sane as can be.
They ignited that burning midnight oil
that fuels the healer’s noble toil.

There they are, surrounding so many hands,
touching but for the pane of glass;
there again, glinting on that man’s flag as stars,
shining for those in the passing cars.

On our media they jump from post to post,
from puzzles to videos, to jokes and “I spys”,
from pictures to chatting, and all in between -
living in smiles passed through a screen.

Yawning before us is this chasmic abyss,
but we have what it takes not to fall.
Hope is in those sparks, our humanity, our drive -
let them burn, let them spread, and we will survive.

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