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ROGER'S FABULOUS VOYAGES, PART 1, CHAPTER1. (standard:humor, 1771 words) [1/6] show all parts
Author: Danny ZilUpdated: Jun 11 2012Views/Reads: 2267/1374Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A black science fiction comedy adventure.





The Ship's Computer sighed and said, “Do I have to read this rubbish?” 

Roger nodded happily and stretched out on the Bridge couch. He
straightened his cheap smoking-jacket, smoothed out his dark blue Fleet 
Pilot's trousers then clasped his hands behind his head. “Begin!” he 
commanded airily. 

The Computer hesitated. “It's embarrassing.” 

“Oh come on!” Roger whined. “You promised you'd read some of my Diary to

The Computer sighed again. “Oh alright,” it reluctantly agreed. 

Roger smiled, crossed one leather Pilot's boot over the other and waited

“From the Diary of Roger White, Fleet Space Pilot,” began the Computer.
“Cold empty Space. Galaxies away from Earth. Billions of miles away 
from home. Light years from the Shopping Centre. Oh it would take ages 
if you had to walk it.” 

Roger sat up. “I didn't write that! That bit about walking. You added
that last bit yourself.” 

The Computer sniggered. 

“Read it properly,” Roger ordered. 

“Billions of miles away from home. Light Years from the Shopping Centre.
An area where no man has ever been.” 

Roger lay back on the couch and stared dreamily at the ceiling. 

“New planets,” the Computer went on, “new worlds. Full of danger and
darkness and alien life-forms and oh you have to be terribly brave to 
even think about going.” 

“I didn't write that either!” Roger said, sitting up quickly again.
“You're putting bits in. Stop putting bits in,” he said huffily. 

The Computer suppressed a snigger and continued. “Full of danger and
darkness and alien life-forms. My mission : to explore these new 
worlds, to forge ahead the magnificence of mankind, to push back the 
barriers separating man from the stars, you're picking your nose 

“Am not,” Roger said, guiltily removing his finger. 

“You were. My sensors don't make mistakes.” 

“I wasn't. I was just...I was just...rubbing it. I was just rubbing the
tip of it.” 

“I refuse to read if you're going to pick your nose at the same time.” 

“Look, I was just rubbing it,” Roger said, a trace of panic creeping
into his voice. “I won't even rub it if it bothers you.” 

The Computer sensed the delicate change in the balance of power and
casually tightened the noose. “Promise?” it asked innocently. 

“Promise,” Roger readily agreed. 

“Pwomisy womisy?” 

Roger pretended he hadn't heard. The Computer let the silence drag on a

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This is part 1 of a total of 6 parts.
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