Taking Out the Trash

July 25, 2008, 4:07 AM

Jack is a garbage man in space.

Handling others’ trash was never considered a prestigious position, but Jack believed that these circumstances warranted a different way of thinking. Though it certainly didn’t look impressive on ones resume nor did it help catch a date but—for once— it was all about location, location, location!

“Junkyard Dog Two to Terra, ready to receive package,” he spoke into the mike, and then settled back into the pilot’s chair of the garbage tug.

Being a garbage man took quite a lot of training. Not just anyone could be entrusted with the disposal of Earth’s trash. In fact, there was a very rigorous training course to endure, followed by test upon test, each harder than the last. Having endured that, the workers of Garbage Disposal Service of Earth and the Colonies were very proud of their hard work, even if it was only handling trash.

Jack grinned to himself as he fiddled absently with the loose foam padding on the chair. The Galactic Postal Service training was a joke compared to the Garbage Service! How’s that for government priorities?

“Terra to Junkyard Dog Two, prepare to receive package,” the com hissed.

“It’s game time,” Jack said to himself. He flexed his fingers before taking the joystick in hand. Far below, the package was quickly accelerating towards him, shot out of the atmosphere by a large gun-like machine, powerful enough to launch several tons of garbage into space.

It’s all about the timing, he thought to himself. Reflexes had very little to do with catching the package: Just timing. He’d seen many packages go spinning off into space with a garbage tug in hot pursuit. He’d never missed catching trash once yet; a secret source of pride that he didn’t usually talk about much. Catching fish was one thing; trash was something different altogether and not something one was wont to brag about.

With practiced ease, he centered the energy net, strung between the two long prongs jutting from the front of the ship, and caught the package of compressed trash. The lines of light stretched as thirty tons strained against them, before finally relaxing and the trash ball hung, suspended, between the prongs.

“Junkyard Dog Two to Terra: Package received, proceeding to disposal,” Jack said into the mike, and guided the tug into the charted orbit and flipped on the autopilot. It would take a few hours for him to get close enough to the sun before jettisoning the package into the star, letting the trash disintegrate. It was a very easy, cheap, and clean method of trash disposal. Putting his feet up on the command console, he continued his game on the PSP4 that had been interrupted.

He was embroiled in a heated battle in the game when claxons sounded.

“Incoming object. Please prepare for impact in ten, nine…” a cool, computerized female voice said.

Cursing heartily, Jack sprang to action, quickly grabbing the controls and switching on the screen to see just what the heck it was about to obliterate him and his small garbage tug.

Looming on the sensor monitor, a huge chunk of ice was hurtling towards him from the back lower left. Desperately twisting the controls and gunning the engines, he did everything he could to avoid being hit by the comet.
With agonizing slowness, the body of the tug swung wide of the path it had been plugging along. The payload made the made small spacecraft unbearably clumsy and took longer to move. Jack swore loudly.

“Impact in two, one, zero,” the female voice said.

For one horrible moment that seemed to last an eternity, Jack waited to be spontaneously turned into a small cloud of ionized gas.

“Impact avoided,” the voice said again and the claxons shut off.

Jack collapsed into the chair as the autopilot corrected the ship’s course towards the sun. His hands were shaking so badly it took him several tries to hit the ‘speak’ button for the mike.

“Junkyard Dog Two to Terra. Be advised of a rogue comet in sector twelve dash six, latitude thirty-three degrees heading south-southwest,” he said, his voice almost as shaky as his hands.

There was a moment’s pause before the radio crackled “Comet advisory heard. All other ships have been warned.”

He sat back in the chair and took a sip from a water bottle. Maybe that offer from the Postal Service wasn’t all that bad after all. He’d have to check the benefits package first.

Jack is a garbage man in space. And, despite the common misconception, it was anything but boring.