Ramblings Of A Slutty Asexual Edwardian Poet

I’d avoided seeing anyone at dinner by going to the cafeteria early and taking my food to-go. The takeout box sat half-empty in my trash can, along with a dozen wadded up tissues. I wasn’t in the mood to eat. I could barely taste the food because my nose was completely blocked up. Blowing my nose didn’t seem to make a difference, but that didn’t stop me from trying. 

The next step after dinner was to get ready for bed. I liked to shower early, then take my time going over notes, reviewing work, and preparing for tomorrow. So I grabbed my clothes and headed for the bathroom. 

It was a difficult process to initiate because I was freezing, and stripping down didn’t help. But once I turned on the hot water, the steam from the shower worked its magic. It was the first time all day that I felt like I could actually breathe. It dislodged whatever was stuck up there and made my nose run, which was a welcome change of pace. I blew my nose and let the running water wash everything away. 

While my congestion finally improved, the stupid tickle in my nose only seemed to worsen with each passing hour. The movement through my nostrils might have made it worse. 

I sneezed harshly without warning, grimacing as it tore through my throat. It was rare that I’d get away with just one sneeze when I was sick. I assumed the inflammation from my body fighting the virus made everything more sensitive, including my nose. 

I braced a hand on the slick shower wall to steady myself. The water pelted my back as my chin angled up with each hitching breath. I forced my eyes open to look at the fluorescent light on the ceiling, a reliable way for me to push a sneeze over the edge. “HIEHH’tscheww!” I stayed like that, bent over with my other hand on my knee, waiting for more. There’s no way I’d be let off that easily. “Heh… hhh–” God, please, I begged silently. “HEH’dzchhh!-IEHSHHH’uh!” 

My head spun as I fought back the urge to sneeze again. I took deep breaths to stay focused and upright. Slipping and falling in the shower on a military ship filled with world-class geniuses would be a terrible way to go. 

That took a lot more energy than I expected. I rinsed off and reached for a towel to dry myself off. 

As I dried my hair, I could feel the itching in my nose swell again. Maybe the sudden absence of the water’s warmth triggered something. With a gasp, I pressed my face into the towel. “HH’mCHHhh!” I came up for air before diving back down. “Heh-HIEh'DSHHEW!” 

I moaned into the towel, then blew my nose into it. Okay, definitely not going to dry myself off with that anymore. Whatever. I was dry enough. I pulled on my sweats and t-shirt, then finished the look off with a freebie sweatshirt from my middle school. I trudged back to my room, grateful not to run into anyone on the way. 

The room didn't have its own thermostat, and I was way too cold for whatever temperature they kept our section of the ship. Honestly, it could have been twenty-five degrees Celsius in here, and I'd still be shaking with chills. Being sick distorts your ability to estimate temperature. 

I wanted to crawl into bed and curl into a ball beneath the covers. But I settled for throwing the blanket around my shoulders and bundling up at my desk. In order to stay “on track,” as I told Stratt, I would have to actually review the equipment tonight. 

It was difficult. I used a green Pilot G2 pen, my go-to for grading student papers, and left notes in the margins. Each time I coughed, it shifted something in my sinuses, and my nose would start trickling again. I was too congested to sniff it back. Every few minutes, I'd yank another tissue from the box, give an unproductive blow, then toss it into the trash can. My success rate steadily declined as the tissue pile on the floor grew. 

That was future Ryland’s problem. For now, I had to devote my energy to reading. At least it was kind of interesting. I’d only read about some of these machines before and never had the privilege of using them. DuBois was going to be a very lucky biologist to have free reign in a lab filled with this kind of stuff. Assuming humanity lived long enough for the project to reach that point. 

I zoned out, staring at the blank wall for a minute. It could have been longer, I honestly had no idea how time was passing. It wasn’t until I felt the snot drip to the edge of my lip that I came back to reality, grabbing a tissue to wipe it away from my chafed nose and blow again.

Maybe the blowing was a mistake. “HYIEH’kshhh! Hehhh-heh…” They always did this to me, and it drove me insane! I just wanted to sneeze, for goodness’ sake. I kept the tissue over my nose, waiting. 

“HAH-EH’dzCHH! Eehh…ihtshh!” I coughed and blew my nose into yet another tissue. And missed the trash can yet another time. With a shake of my head, I returned my attention back to the papers in front of me. 

I was just starting on the last page when I heard a light knocking on my door. It was unusual to have one of Stratt’s gophers chasing after me this late at night, and Stratt could have called me directly if something was urgent. I stood slowly from the desk, shedding my blanket, and shuffled to the door. 

When I cracked it open, I was surprised by who I saw standing in the hall. “Dr. Lokken?”

“Is this a bad time?” 

“Not at all,” I managed. “Come in.” I stumbled over the words. It didn’t help that my stuffiness turned the sentence into something closer to “ndot at all, cub ind.” 

I pulled the door open all the way and she stepped in. Her eyes surveyed my room, landing on the tissue graveyard. Great. Now she got to see how messy I was. I swear I’m tidier when I’m not sick. 

“Did you need the papers back?” I asked quickly, nodding to my desk to redirect her attention. “I’m almost done.”

“That’s not necessary, it can wait until tomorrow. You are clearly ill,” she said. 

Should I be offended? “Uh, I’m surviving.” I pulled my sweatshirt up over my mouth and muffled an unproductive cough. 

"I stopped by the infirmary," she continued, opening her bag and reaching in. 

“You… what?” 

“Fever reducer, decongestant, syrup for your throat.” She listed the medicines’ purposes as she set them on my desk. The first two were nondescript pill bottles, and the last was a dark glass bottle with a bright red label. “You looked miserable this afternoon. These should help.” 

I was at a complete loss for words. “You didn’t have to do that.”

I picked one of the medications up. I don’t know why I tried to read the label. It was in Chinese. I don’t speak Chinese. I’d just have to keep track of which bottle is which. 

“Fever reducer,” she repeated, gesturing to the bottle in my hand. “One every six hours. Same for the decongestant. You can take the syrup as needed.” 

“Wow, thank you.” I took the pill and swallowed it dry, grimacing. I hadn’t even thought to look for drugs on this aircraft carrier. I should have known better. Maybe the fever reducer would help me think more clearly. 

“You are up late for somebody who is so sick.” 

“I was working,” I said. I reached for the dark bottle and untwisted the cap, sniffing tentatively at the dark molasses-like substance. Not bad. I recapped it and set it back down, making a mental note to bring a spoon back from the cafeteria. 

“You can work tomorrow.” 

I opened my mouth to argue. She was the one who asked for the file back tomorrow. 

But the lingering tickle in my nose grew unbearably strong in an instant, and I barely had time to register the assault on my nose. I ducked my head into the crook of my elbow. “Hih’pTCHh! Heh’YIESHhh!” There was no use trying to hold these in, so I redirected my efforts to containment. I sniffled against the sweatshirt, hoping my nose wouldn’t come away from it dripping. 

“Dr. Grace,” she said firmly. “You need sleep.” 

Keeping my arm against my nose, I blinked, trying to get a sentence out. “Heh… buh-uhh… but I need–”

I did my best to turn away from her as the last sneeze exploded out of me. “HAH-EHSCHIEW!” I stumbled sideways, almost running into my desk. Before I could lose my balance, her hand caught my free arm.

I sniffled hard, choking back a cough at the force, and let my arm drop once it was safe. I completely forgot what I was going to say. 

When I finally looked at her through bleary eyes, she looked at the floor, her eyes not meeting mine. “Come on,” she said, turning her attention towards my bed. 

I don’t know why, but I allowed her to herd me. I was beyond the point of worrying about how embarrassing it was to be utterly destroyed by a small cold. Plus, Lokken being weirdly nice was throwing me off. I guess it made sense for her to make sure I'm taking care of myself. It was in the team's best interest that I recover as soon as possible. Any delays in the timeline put the Project at risk, even something as small as a science teacher missing a lesson or reviewing some equipment.

I sat on the edge of the bed, unable to suppress a shiver as I touched the cold mattress. 

She picked up my blanket off the floor from where it had slid from my chair. I laid down, deducing that this would likely be her next demand if I didn't. I swear, if she tucked me in…

Fortunately, she just laid the covers on top. I held the edges and pulled it around myself tightly, eager to get warm. She brought the medications to the small nightstand next to me, along with a bottle of water placed within arm’s reach. “Don’t forget to take these when you wake up.” 

“You got it,” I mumbled, already being lulled to sleep.