3n/80ths
The onboard intercom needed to warm up just like an old-fashioned wireless. Albert squinted his eyes as if he thought that would create a clearer signal. The whining noise made him wince. The last knob he twiddled (always the last one, it seemed) managed to tune in a voice of sorts. Well, what else could be expected across all those countless light years? He put his mouth nearer the heavy-duty mike and said: “This is Albert here, Roger.”
“Sorry, Roger is off sick – over.”
“Well, I need some more essential supplies sent out.”
“Sorry, everyone’s on strike here ... except me – over.”
“Well, can’t you arrange something?”
“Sorry, I’ve got a more pressing priority at the moment t’other side of the universe from you – over.”
“How can I be expected to keep body and soul together?”
“Blimey, mate. Don’t give me all those sob stories. You’ll be telling me next that you’re actually still alive! I’ve not read ‘Teach Yourself Relativity’ for nothing – over.”
Albert switched off the intercom with a heartfelt sigh. The yellow console lights doused. Perhaps he’ll try to tune into the BBC Home Service a little bit later. Last time he managed to pick it up, the news had been very depressing indeed. Something about a world war to end all world wars. Perhaps he should have cashed in his pension after all.
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