Chapter Five: A Failed Landing
678 Words
“What is going on?” Fang Qing swayed left and right, gripping onto anything she could. This had never happened before. Was she going to have to save up for another spaceship? The thought frustrated her even more. She didn’t have any money left! If things got worse, she’d be a total pauper, barely able to afford food—and poor Awu might have to eat rocks again.
Another violent jolt rocked the ship. She clutched Awu tightly, feeling the rush of a freefall descent. At the very last moment, the spaceship’s self-protection system activated, flinging them—one human and one pillow—out of the craft.
With a deafening crash, the spaceship shattered into a thousand pieces upon impact. Fang Qing was hurled out as well, but Awu, having transformed into a pillow, cushioned her fall. Without him, she would have been smashed to bits.
Moments later, Fang Qing hugged Awu and burst into tears.
“Waaaah! My spaceship, my precious spaceship! Now I don’t have a ride anymore! Sure, it wasn’t worth much. Sure, it was second-hand. But at least I had a spaceship…”
Awu shook itself off and shifted back into puppy form. “There are still public spaceships. The tickets aren’t expensive.”
“It’s not the same,” Fang Qing pouted. “Who wants to squeeze onto public spaceships every day?”
“A lot of people,” Awu said, trying to be gentle. The truth was, plenty of people didn’t own spaceships.
But Fang Qing kept crying, oblivious to where they had actually landed. She pouted and sniffled, her heart aching. Soon she’d have to pay for cleaning fees, transportation fines, and penalties. Oh, and her pilot’s license—had she renewed it? It had expired over a year ago, and she hadn’t bothered to check.
She sat there, holding Awu, surrounded by what could only be described as wreckage. She sighed for what felt like the hundredth time.
“When I earn more money, I’m definitely getting a smart functional robot. One that can turn into a spaceship. That way, I won’t have to spend money on a separate ship and a robot. Two birds, one stone!”
Awu rolled its eyes, looking uncannily like a real dog. “You’ve been saying that for over a decade. I still haven’t seen you buy another robot.”
“I bought you by mistake,” she grumbled, lifting Awu up. “That seller promised you could function as a multi-purpose robot. Said you were a name brand, even! And on sale, too!”
She shook Awu back and forth, muttering, “Turns out you can only turn into a pillow. Not even a simple table! I got swindled! I got conned!”
“You were too greedy. Your money was discounted, so my functions were too,” Awu retorted, rolling its eyes again. How many times had they had this conversation? Hundreds, probably. She didn’t realize how lucky she was to get such a sophisticated intelligent robot at that price. Did she really think the robot market was in such a slump that smart functional robots were that cheap? The cost of one was astronomical!
Fang Qing continued mourning her spaceship, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t stop until her stomach growled loudly. Sniffling, she wiped away her tears. At least she still had one thing to comfort her—her kitchen space. She glanced at the wreckage of her ship, then stood up and patted her clothes. The fabric self-cleaned instantly, looking fresh again.
“Awu, change my outfit!” she ordered, stomping her foot.
Awu glanced at her clothes. “The transformation function has expired. You need to buy new ones.”
“No way!” Fang Qing felt a wave of despair wash over her. This, too? She tugged at her outfit. “Didn’t I just buy this? How could it be expired already?”
“Because you bought it on discount,” Awu replied, tired of repeating the same explanation. Discounted price, discounted quality.
- Writer
