Pip Waits for Button Gold — Under the wide glass of the observation cockpit, Pip tapped one dull gold button with one gloved finger: tap… tap… no push. Read the full story →
Under the wide glass of the observation cockpit, Pip tapped one dull gold button with one gloved finger: tap… tap… no push. The button looked like a cough drop, but it had come from his first space fair, where a vendor had winked and said, “Only press when the quiet gets loud.” Around him, switches clicked like beetles, the air smelled faintly of warm plastic, and Earth rolled by with blue curls in its hair.
Pip waited through three fake emergencies. The fuel gauge hiccupped. The mission log printed, PLEASE STOP HUMMING, though Pip had only been thinking about humming. A tiny screen drew a mustache on his helmet reflection. Pip grinned and kept both hands on the joysticks. “Nice try, dashboard,” he said. Outside, star streaks slid past like chalk lines.
Then the cockpit went perfectly silent. Not broken-silent. Listening-silent. The dull gold button warmed under Pip’s glove, and all the silly screens turned to arrows pointing at Earth. When he pressed it, the ship’s speakers released a gigantic recorded sneeze: AHHH-CHOOO! Far below, the clouds puffed into a perfect spiral smile. Pip laughed so hard his helmet squeaked, and the mission log printed one last line: PATIENCE MAKES THE BEST PRANKS. Next time you see that little gold button among all the knobs, dare yourself to wait for the quiet to get loud.
