Mister Winters

“And how many years did the doctors give you Mister Winters?” said the man with a red business suit, a red necktie, a red fedora hat and a spotless, white dress shirt. Coincidentally, this man's name was Red. He wore sunglasses inside the office, sitting by the edge of Mister Winters' desk with his legs crossed.

“Six,” said Mister Winters.

“Six Years?”

“Six Months.”

“Oh, my kind of number,” said Red (he liked numbers that were divisible by three).

This Constant In Life

Andrew and Sarah were inside a metallic pod. The pod hummed with an ominous groan: the solid walls trembled, the grated floor sizzled and the hollow ceiling crumpled in. The computer console nearby screamed for attention, beeping incessantly while flashing a dire message to its passengers. On its screen, the console showed the current temperature. It had broken through the threshold of 1,000 Kelvin – it was 1,500 K inside.

Andrew and Sarah held each other closely, affirming their love for one another. They wanted to lock lips, but the helmet they wore prevented them to do so. The helmets looked like fishbowls, but they were far from being fragile – the helmets were made with Polyphelexine and Maorgian material, five times stronger than First Earth Adamantium and Eighth Earth Ndukwium.

Andrew and Sarah donned the same space suits which were made of thin, elastic Polyphelexine material. It had a built-in life-support system and an internal cooling system. The helmet and the suit were designed to prevent any damage from solar flares and were built to withstand 1,500 K.