Starlight Adventure Through Unknown.
The Communication Is Needed.
"Dad, the oxygen gauge is reading low," I called, tapping the small thermometer-like object - which was imbedded in the wall - with my index finger.
"Wha' was tha', son?" his heavy Californian accent made my ears bleed.
"I said, 'We need to call for more oxygen,' we're running out," I repeated, turning around as he appeared in the doorway.
"Ah, all righ' then. You c'n do tha' an' I'll finish fixin' tea."
I followed dad through to the kitchen, the door closing automatically behind us. I then sat at the small table and pressed the area behind my left ear. A dial tone sounded in my ears, shortly followed by a cool, female voice:
"Hi, welcome to the ATC*. Who would you like to contact?"
"The Australian Oxygen Delivery Service, thanks." I drummed my fingers on the table and leaned back in my chair.
"Please hold."
The phone line wavered, then began to ring.
A similar female voice answered, "Hello, this is the AODS, please state your residential number and town and we'll connect you with a local Oxygen Transportation Service."
"151859, Sydney."
The phone clicked and a familiar recorded male voice sounded, "This is the Sydney ODS, if you require assistance, state the number 1, if you require Oxygen, state the number 2, if you have a complaint or feedback, state the number 3. Have a nice day."
"Two."
This time, a non-recorded male voice answered, "Good day, your mail and packages number, please."
"1493FLE."
"Thank-you. Your Oxygen should arrive in your packages chute within the hour."
I pressed the area behind my ear again and stretched. Dad looked over his shoulder and grinned, "Done?" I nodded and he placed a large cup of purple liquid in front of me. "This 'un's a new 'un, Tristen, I think it's supposed to taste like berries."
"Okay, thanks, dad. I'll tell you what I - er, what I think of it."
He nodded and drank his purple meal in a few large mouthfuls.
Dad wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and placed his glass in the dishwasher, "Y'know, back in my day, we 'ad to 'ave these little tablet things for meals. Quite boring little things ..."
I dipped my head and devoured my drink.
"Um ... I think I'm gonna go for a walk. The Oxygen should come soon, so check the chute every now and then."
"Alrigh', son. Jus' watch ou' for Circa Snatchers." He laughed, "Don't want you to be taken to Reptakon, now do I?"
"Sure, dad."
"Wha' was tha', son?" his heavy Californian accent made my ears bleed.
"I said, 'We need to call for more oxygen,' we're running out," I repeated, turning around as he appeared in the doorway.
"Ah, all righ' then. You c'n do tha' an' I'll finish fixin' tea."
I followed dad through to the kitchen, the door closing automatically behind us. I then sat at the small table and pressed the area behind my left ear. A dial tone sounded in my ears, shortly followed by a cool, female voice:
"Hi, welcome to the ATC*. Who would you like to contact?"
"The Australian Oxygen Delivery Service, thanks." I drummed my fingers on the table and leaned back in my chair.
"Please hold."
The phone line wavered, then began to ring.
A similar female voice answered, "Hello, this is the AODS, please state your residential number and town and we'll connect you with a local Oxygen Transportation Service."
"151859, Sydney."
The phone clicked and a familiar recorded male voice sounded, "This is the Sydney ODS, if you require assistance, state the number 1, if you require Oxygen, state the number 2, if you have a complaint or feedback, state the number 3. Have a nice day."
"Two."
This time, a non-recorded male voice answered, "Good day, your mail and packages number, please."
"1493FLE."
"Thank-you. Your Oxygen should arrive in your packages chute within the hour."
I pressed the area behind my ear again and stretched. Dad looked over his shoulder and grinned, "Done?" I nodded and he placed a large cup of purple liquid in front of me. "This 'un's a new 'un, Tristen, I think it's supposed to taste like berries."
"Okay, thanks, dad. I'll tell you what I - er, what I think of it."
He nodded and drank his purple meal in a few large mouthfuls.
Dad wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and placed his glass in the dishwasher, "Y'know, back in my day, we 'ad to 'ave these little tablet things for meals. Quite boring little things ..."
I dipped my head and devoured my drink.
"Um ... I think I'm gonna go for a walk. The Oxygen should come soon, so check the chute every now and then."
"Alrigh', son. Jus' watch ou' for Circa Snatchers." He laughed, "Don't want you to be taken to Reptakon, now do I?"
"Sure, dad."
♠ ♠ ♠
*Australian Telephone Communication