Raymundo started walking through the dusty ship. He did his best not to sneeze, but that still happened a few times as he ran his hands along the walls, searching for something, anything that might get him some kind of answers.
Eventually, across from the golden containers, Raymundo found a small indentation with his palm. With further prodding, he discovered there was a hole there, about the diameter of a pencil. With some sense of foreboding from his Indiana Jones marathon, he searched his pockets first, finding a pencil.
Pink eraser side first, Raymundo wiggled the pencil into the hole. It wasn't a new pencil, so as he got close to the tip he held his breath. But then the eraser bumped the end of the hole, and the interior of the ship was flooded with soft green light.
He blinked rapidly and stepped back from the wall. Once adjusted he saw the wall he was looking at had a virtual keyboard at chest height. Words appeared above the keyboard, in a darker green.
How may I be of service Raymundo Castro? Please input your queries.
Raymundo first stood in the middle of the keyboard to type his question. How do you know my name? After walking back and forth, the keyboard width began to shrink, so Raymundo didn't have to move at all.
Your father put your fingerprints into my database. And you left them all over the wall.
“All right, totally normal. I think.” Raymundo ran his hands through his hair, so many questions coming to mind.
He left a message for you. Would you like to hear it now?
Raymundo swallowed before typing. Yes.
The words and keyboard disappeared, replaced by a life-size picture of his father standing in the middle of the ship.
“Hey Ray,” The young adult bit his lip, wringing his hands together the whole time his father spoke. “If you're listening to this, I didn't get around to explaining everything. Star Surfer is the name of the ship. It can show you everything you need to know. I recorded some, and other ancestors. Oh, and no, you can't get rich off the gold bars over there. Inside those containers are emergency food rations. And not designed for humans. Though the data shows it may be a cure for jaundice. Anyway, time's almost up, keep it safe, keep it hidden, and don't try to fly it. It's old and needs new parts, and who knows if we have anything compatible yet.”
The picture disappeared and the keyboard reappeared. Star Surfer didn't start the conversation this time and Raymundo didn't type anything for a long time.
Word count: 441
January 8/9th word: kitschy
I realize I should have included it in the last preview post to set things up for Sunday being the review/preview post. Whoops. Oh well, moving onward to week 2.