“Why even bother fixing anything when everything is pointless in the end?”

As you perform your maintenance duties, you can’t help being distracted by Nicola’s existential tirades.

Working at Moonbase 29 was tiresome enough, let alone dealing with the ever-cheerful ray of sunshine, Miss “Living the Dream” Zelpher.

She edges toward you, continuing her endless stream of “expert” opinion.

“Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to just let everything crash and burn? It’s not like humanity has any future in space.”

You begrudgingly ask if she got up on the wrong side of the bed or what’s got her riled up today.

She folds her arms, shooting you a look dripping with disdain.

“Life is just a dream. Why take it so seriously when it all amounts to nothing in the end?”

Clearly, work was out of the question; her ceaseless inquiries demanded your attention.

You answer with quiet conviction, saying there is always hope for a better tomorrow—a light in the darkness. Change was possible, though never assured, least of all from her.

She looks at you, unimpressed, despite your genuine attempt to shed this light of wisdom.

“There is no hope without purpose, and in this universe, we are just chaos masquerading as meaning. In reality, we are nothing but fleeting manifestations of the endless void.”

Her outlook on life wasn’t doing her any favors, especially at work. Concerned about her state of mind, you ask if she’s feeling depressed and needs some time to herself.

“I don’t believe in depression. I’m simply ahead of the curve, seeing reality for what it is—a futile effort to validate our meaningless existence by any cope necessary.”

Her attitude was beginning to grind more than your gears, so in a spontaneous moment of mischief you decide to taunt her with a hug to lift her from her depths of despair.

Her expression remains static, though behind it emanates a faint trace of an unseen torment.

“Getting sentimental? I don’t want a hug, nor do I need your pity. I want only to scream into the endless void until space devours us all in oblivion.”

You ask her what she actually does for fun, besides pacing the prison of her mind.

She looks at you, seemingly unmoved by your concern for her well-being.

“Having fun is just another way of avoiding the inevitable. Misery is the true state of being, and to argue otherwise is a fool’s errand.”

You press the point that surely there must be something she does just for the sake of fun.

For the first time, she takes a moment to ponder your question before turning back to you with a more thoughtful answer.

“Gazing into the dark abyss of space and contemplating the call of the void is something I occasionally devote time to.”

You suspected she was being obtuse on purpose, throwing you out of orbit to provoke you. If she truly cared about nothing, she wouldn’t have bothered crawling out of bed.

Following up on her answer, you ask what compels her to spend her time staring into the dark beyond.

You discern a subtle change in her demeanor as she finally confides in you.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you. I keep having recurring dreams of drifting aimlessly through space, only to wake in a world devoid of meaning, wondering if any real distinction exists between dream and reality.”

A fleeting moment of happiness dwells within you; her willingness to open up after all the existential needling was the last thing you expected of her.

As she looks out the observation windows into space, she voices the question you sense she has kept to herself for a long time.

“In this world without meaning, what is your light in the darkness, your guiding north star?”