At first, there was nothing. Then, there was nothing more. This was about the best summary one could get of the things that she had been taught on this vessel. Of course, she knew of the things that happened “in-between”, but after such a long period of time, those things “in-between” didn’t matter much anymore. How could they? That was that, and this was this. What did the “in-between” matter to someone so far removed from it?

  All that mattered at this point in time was making it day in and day out. The happenings of people from a few decades ago didn’t mean anything to her that existed now, who, unfortunately, has to get out of bed for work in the morning like everyone else. Opening the door of her bedroom, she steps into the open floor plan of the rest of her quarters. An open floor plan is perhaps a generous estimation, as it implies something more grandiose, or perhaps refined. However, that was just the rest of the space she lived in. Alongside another bedroom and a bathroom.

  “April, is that you, honey?” chimed a voice from the bedroom adjacent to hers. A voice that drummed up a lot of complications within her.

  “Yeah, Mom. It’s me every time.” She retorts, with perhaps even a hint of frustration in her voice as she buttons up her work shirt. This might be where you would expect to read about the gentle morning sunlight coming in through the wide open window, illuminating the lovely home and painting it in a beautiful, warm, orange sunrise glow. No such thing existed on this vessel. That was something reserved for the “in-betweens”.

  Brightening up the living space wasn’t warm natural lighting, but the stifling, seemingly sanitized white light of LED bulbs screwed in overhead, firmly placed into the ceiling. They certainly did the job of lighting up the space they lived in, but it was cold. It felt void, emotionless. Alongside the very faint buzzing sound generated by the lights, she wasn’t particularly fond of the atmosphere they generated. She remembered hearing something from her Father about how the buzzing was a sign of poor installation, or something like that. Oh well, it’s not something for someone like her to know to begin with.

  “I’m off, Mom.” As she finished buttoning her shirt, and after she was finished glaring menacingly at the LED lights, she reached inside a small bag that contained her work badge. Walking past a mirror beside the dining table, she hesitated for just a second. Well-fitted khakis and a plain, boring white t-shirt that was just a bit too big for her. Of course, the shirt also sported the name of her workplace. “Last Stop”. It served as basically one of the grocery stores serving the vessel, which would be the best way to put it.

  The ship they were on was gigantic, to say the least. Though she was not really aware of the specifics since she mostly slept through physics, she does remember that the project was so substantial that it had to be “assembled piece by piece in outer-space” She didn’t completely understand, but that was more something for the “in-betweens” anyway. Due to the size of the vessel, however, there is more than one grocery store available so that people in different sectors have access to the things they need.

  At a young age, when she asked her Father why all the grocery stores had different names and products, he proudly exclaimed, “It’s so that the idea of the free market doesn’t die with Earth!” This was also something she didn’t get. Something, something, competition, or whatever. During her youth, she didn’t often find herself compelled to understand the way the world worked. Though, world might be a funny word to use in this context.

  As she twisted the lock on her front door to head to work, she heard one of the doors behind her open. A twinge of… something, went through her. Is it appropriate to call it irritation? Dread? It wasn’t something she could put a word to. “Have a good day at work, April. I love you.” The words from her Mom that she heard just about every day. It wasn’t as if she didn’t love her Mom. Of course she did. The woman who gave birth to her, the woman who raised her, the woman she spent so many great times with, the woman she spent so many horrible, hurtful times with.

  They would butt heads on how her life should go, but they would bond over shared interests. They would yell at each other due to her Mom’s absence, but they held firm and weathered her Father’s death together. In her own home, she would feel dread, discomfort from having to share a space with her, because at any moment, something greatly unreasonable could be said, or a ridiculous situation could appear. But at the end of the day, there was nobody she felt more comfort in. So then, why? Why could she not just say those words?

  “Yeah… see you later, Mom.” Shifting her gaze away from her Mom, she looked out the door and proceeded through, closing the door behind her as fast as she could while not appearing like she was in a rush. It was another day, another instance of her not being able to respond. ‘I love you too’. Was it really something so hard to say? Just four words, that realistically, you don’t even have to mean when you say? What about it was so difficult? It wasn’t long before she realized that she was standing in place, still gripping the doorknob. Tighter and tighter, more and more, her frustration boiled.

  △▼△▼△▼△

  “Hey, hey, did you hear? They finally fired that guy who was groping people.” The voice of her co-worker beside her snapped her back to reality. Frankly, she was quite satisfied just sitting here spinning in her chair at her register.

  “Honestly! I can’t believe it took them so long! What kind of working environment is that to foster?” Another voice chimed in. April was seated at register three, and beside her were her two co-workers. The first one who spoke was Alexandria, or what they usually call her, Alex. The other, a man named Steven.

  “Ahh, well, that’s usually how it goes. They probably only got rid of him because it started causing issues outside of the store. Managers don’t usually care until then.” Stopping the spin of her chair, she stops just in time to be facing Steven as she replies to his question.

  “Man, you’ve really gotten dark in the past few years, haven’t you? Where did all that childlike joy go?!” he replied, emoting with his hands as if to replicate rays of sunlight. How silly.

  Steven and April had known each other since childhood. Only a year apart, they went to the same educational facility and ended up spending a lot of time together. Despite his seemingly contrary looks, Steven was quite a lively individual. He was of average height, and he wasn’t exactly a big guy. What bothered people was his face. Not in that way, though. He often had a seeming scowl on it, something that would often be the butt of a joke because it was so contradictory to how he carried himself. His short, but styled, black hair and clean-shaven face kept him prim and proper. He was just a walking contradiction.

  The two of them were once similar in the manner of their attitude towards the world. But not everything can remain the same. “Well, I guess one of us grew up. You’re still a 12-year-old boy in the skin suit of a man. But that’s what I like about you.” From the outside looking in, April and Steven would rib each other. But there was no hostility, just good old-fashioned banter.

  “Man, the concept of April being a similar species to Steven… I find it hard to imagine.” Alex weighed in, resting her chin on the thin dividing wall of the register's cubicle, for lack of a better word. “Steven is a little too much, though. So, I like April how she is!”

  Cracking a smirk at Alex’s compliment, April glanced over at Steven, as if to say, “Ha, look who’s on top.” In response, he grimaced. It was a method of interaction that helped bring her comfort in the discomfort. It wasn’t that she so much enjoyed being at work, that part was soul-crushing. But she got to spend time with them. That made it worth it. “Oh, oh, April, did you see the paper this morning?” During her introspection, Alex shoved a piece of paper in her face. Squinting her eyes and craning her head away, she looked away from the paper and up at Alex.

  “Why the hell would I do that? Who has time to read the paper when you can spend an extra 15 minutes in bed?” Pouting in response, Alex slapped her finger on the headline of a small section. Something that wasn’t deemed worthy enough to be front-page news.

  “Seriously, look!” she exclaimed, to which April shifted her eyes away from hers and onto what she was pointing at. Her eyes widened slightly, surprised that something like this was happening on the ship.

  “Another Young Woman Found Dead, Civil Enforcers Stumped.” The headline leaves one at a loss for words. She had heard whispers of a similar situation. Young women winding up dead around the ship, but not something the Enforcers have been able to figure out if they are linked, random acts of violence, or something more nefarious. “And what exactly does me reading this accomplish?” Furrowing her brow, April pushes Alex’s hand away, and with it, the paper.

  “It accomplishes you keeping your guard up! I couldn’t– or, we couldn’t have something happening to you! There’s obviously a pattern with young women. There hasn’t been a serial killer on board since, uhh… the last one?” At first showing more emotion than is characteristic of her, when Alex tried to think of the previous instance of a serial killer on the Starlight Hope, she began to look around inquisitively, as if she would find the answer in the store.

  “Since the last one? Really compelling stuff there.” Steven chuckled as he patted her on the head, to which she slapped his hand off.

  “Do you wanna be the next guy fired?”

  “Despite having lost her gusto, April is actually quite the fighter. Even though I actually ended up winning most of our skirmishes!” Putting his hands on his hips, he attempted to reassure Alex, before trying to take her down, flexing his biceps.

  “Well, you did have a year on me. And like, 8 inches of height. You shouldn’t even be bragging about anything that isn’t a 100% winrate.” Sighing before responding, April rests her chin in her hand and puts her elbow on the register stand.

  “Well, hey, credit where it’s due, April. …You got some good shots in…” At first speaking in a prideful attitude, his tone quickly dropped as he put his hand over his stomach, looking off into the distance, forlorn.

  Something shocked April, however. Walking forward and grabbing her hand, was Alex. “Please just assure me that you’ll be careful, okay?” Looking right into each other's eyes, the concern she expressed caught April off guard. Unlike Steven, April and Alex didn’t go nearly as far back. They had met when April started working at this very store just a couple of years ago. Quickly, the similarities in their ‘broodiness’ had them working closely together. However, at times like these, Alex would show a different side of herself.

  “...Yeah. I’ll be okay. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.” Giving back a little squeeze of her hand, April tried to reassure her. As she got older, she tried to be less open, tried to be less involved in the affairs of other people. These two, however, always broke that armor of hers. There were other people she cared about, of course. There were other people she would consider friends, of course. These two, however, made her feel found.

  △▼△▼△▼△

  Walking through the halls of the U.S.S Starlight Hope, April takes in the atmosphere as she heads home from work. The hustle and bustle of the commercial industry around her, the people standing in the lanes making conversation. A sense of community. Though, notably, this sense of community has dwindled over her lifetime. A place that once felt like walking through a tight-knit crowd now supports splotches of people here and there.

  When she was younger, she pitied the loss of that environment, but now, at twenty years old, she is just glad that fewer people talk to her on the way home. Though, generally when people do reach out to her, their intentions are less than ideal these days. Though some conflict existed within her during these moments. She appreciated the silence, but she would dread it all the same. It’s times like these that she struggles the most. Times when she has nothing else to focus on.

  Exiting a commercial district and entering what would be considered a ‘bridge’, she enters a room akin to a long, long hallway. It serves as a connector between two districts. There isn’t much to talk about in these, just a large stretch of space that people use to get to somewhere. Along the walls aren’t beautiful art, or storefronts, or designated meeting spots. Nothing of that nature. It’s just glass.

  In these bridges, in the in-between connecting two different portions of the vessel, is where you were faced with the reality of your situation. An expanse of nothing. She had heard that in the days before, the nothingness only existed above you. And to the people “in between”, it was a sight of wonder, rather than trepidation. However, there was nothing inspiring about the expanse. Truly, in these circumstances, what could one hope to find out in the black void?

  At a young age, the ‘world’ was April’s oyster. She was told she could be anything. The people directly involved in her life would instill a fire in her that seemed naught but the ocean could put out. At times, there would be sprinkles of moisture. At times, it would be as if a glass of water were poured on her ambition. Carry on, it did. As she got older, however, those sprinkles turned to raindrops. Those raindrops, turned to streams. Those streams, turned into the great blue ball her people came from.

  The expanse, the void, the nothingness, served as a reminder. This is all that exists for you. There is nothing beyond this. Floating in the cradle of despair that ironically lauded the name ‘Starlight Hope’, she understood. She understood her purpose, or rather, lack of a purpose. The vessel that existed to give hope to the next generation, had done everything but. It had ground them down, spat them up, and told them to fight for something. That something never came for many of them.

  Until the day she was born, and until the day she was to die, she would toil around. For no particular reason. She would plug that void with meaningless pleasantries. Reading books, playing old console games, having dinner with her Mom, spending time with her friends, and going to work to help provide for her aging Mom. All of it. Absolutely all of it, served no purpose other than to assuage her purposeless heart. It was something she intimately understood.

  The day her Father died, it was as if the very purpose of her heart had been snatched away from her. Rather than beating to help her reach her goals, her ambition, to reward her dedication, it now only beats for a mechanical purpose. To keep her alive. Because that was what it was made to do. And as a human being sheltered in the U.S.S. Starlight Hope, April’s purpose was to trudge along, as a human.

  What inspiration, what hope, what aspirations, were to be found out in space? If anything, humanity was defying the purpose set out for itself by escaping the confines of Earth. They were supposed to rise and fall on that blue marble, but here they were, desperately struggling against the inevitable. It made her sick. But most of all, she was sick of herself. An inner conflict boiled within the depths of her stomach. The April who once yearned, versus the April who abjured that life.

  To people who still had goals and aspirations, like Alex and Steven. Did she still deserve occupying a spot in the hearts of those two? Someone like her, who had given up? To someone like her Mom, someone who loved her, supported her, and provided for her, despite being so miserable, so soulless? All she wanted to do was reach out, tears running down her face, and apologize. Apologize for how different she has become. Apologize for how abhorrent she had become. Apologize for giving up. But maybe it would be easier if she just weren’t dragging these people down anymore. Just maybe.

  Ahh, I’m doing it again. Quickly pointing her eyes down towards the floor, she looked away from the window as fast as she could, and quietly continued walking down the bridge towards the living quarters. More often than not, April would occupy her mind with various doodads and hobbies so that these things wouldn’t come back to haunt her. But every now and again, when returning home or walking around the ship, she would catch sight of them.

  April absolutely hated the stars. They were never something she wanted to face if she could avoid it. Scurrying down the bridge, she entered the living quarters. Yet, she kept her eyes glued to the ground. Rushing, rushing, and rushing, she wanted to return home as soon as possible. To immerse her mind in meaningless activities once again, to break the downward spiral of this negative thought pattern.

  As she walked as quickly as she could, however, a hand grabbed her by her shoulder. With the speed she was going, she spun around a little on her heel, before stopping and coming face to face with the man who had grabbed her. It took a moment for her to register what had just happened, and as the fog lifted from her mind, she recognized him. Or at least, his outfit.

  “An Enforcer…?” she muttered, to which he craned his head down to look her in her eyes.

  “I’m afraid you can’t continue past this point. It’s been blocked off for a pending investigation.” The man, still grabbing onto her shoulder, pointed in the direction she was heading with his head via a quick nod. But that couldn’t possibly be right. The way she was heading was home, wasn't it?

  Glancing at his hand on her shoulder, then glancing in the direction he had pointed, she saw it. The door to her home was wide open, with Enforcers moving in and out. Her heart sank, as if it had fallen out of her chest and into her stomach. Placing her hand over her mouth, she could only mutter one thing.

  “...Mom?”