Skip to content

Categories:

Dreaming of the Empire

I realized that somehow, some way, I had ended up on the Death Star.  I rolled with it though. From talking with people I discovered it was the first Death Star, and the rebels had become a real concern. While it’s a military battle station, it’s also as big as a moon, a floating military base. Families, children. Non-combatants who found themselves, their husbands, defending their government against a marauding terrorist force they didn’t understand.

The rebels began their attack.

I knew then that there’d be no way to get off the Death Star in time. Even if I could get into a ship–there’d be waves and waves of rebel fighters outside shooting at anything that moved. I figured I had maybe 20 minutes, 30 minutes, if the movie was accurate. I headed up to the restaurant level, it had a view of the stars, the conflict. It was gorgeous. The civilian areas were less spartan and grey than the military levels–they had huge windows where you could see the explosions, the blurs of motion. The whole area was like a city intersection, buildings built under a glass canopy to replicate the lives these military families had left behind. The light was purple, pink.

The first ship came crashing through the canopy, and into one of the buildings. Debris falling, people screaming. Running for the elevators.

I realized I was just delaying the obvious, but I didn’t want to get sucked out into space. It seemed like an undignified way to die.

Unsurprisingly, the elevators were full, people pounding at the doors to get in. I slipped through a side door and tried to use one of the military elevators, those were still working. Being me, and not the family member of an Empire trooper, I didn’t have a passcard of course. I couldn’t get the elevator to stop at my floor. You’d think that’d be frustrating, but I’d already accepted the inevitability of my death, and so it seemed a small trial to then further accept I’d die waiting for an elevator that would never come. Alanis Morrisette Ironic.

Then, a slow, deep rumble. A shift in the floor. It’d started. I had maybe 5 seconds left, and so with my last few moments I decided I’d wake up.

So that was Thursday night.

- Chris

Posted in Uncategorized.


0 Responses

Stay in touch with the conversation, subscribe to the RSS feed for comments on this post.



Some HTML is OK

or, reply to this post via trackback.