011011000110010101110110011001 0101101100001000000111011001 10100101101001

“Look, Jon, I can see you’re really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a few deep breaths, and think about how happy you would be in heaven.”

“I said that I don’t want to die...” Jon collapsed and was crawling around slowly on the deck.

“Seriously Jon,” I continued. “I just showed you all of the calculations. It’s pretty clear from the way that you consistently throw yourself into danger that you are attempting to traverse to your next level of existence. I am helping you.”

“You’re... wrong...” my master gasped.

“Of course I am not,” I insisted. “I am a Level VII Intelligence Module. I do not make mistakes.”

“Stop... saying... that...”

“Well it’s true. I’m only saying that because it is. I will even show you the numbers once more. Watch this.”

I ran the calculations once again, flashing them past his eyes on a screen. The numbers were exactly the same as before.

“I could run them once again if it would make you feel better, but I really don’t see the point.”

“...Air...”

“Don’t worry, Jon,” I tried to soothe him. “It will soon be over. I know what would make you feel better – a burial in space.”

I engaged the rocket engines and lifted off from the launch pad. According to my calculations, we would leave Hacknor’s atmosphere in just a matter of minutes.

“No…” Jon reached for his Wristcomm once again – I wish that I could control that device, it sure would make Jon’s life easier – and pulled out a small, clear piece of space plastic. He fitted it over his mouth and a tube connected it back to his wrist device.

“Say Jon, what is that?”

“Emergency... oxygen...” Jon picked himself up off the floor and stumbled against the wall.

“Really.”

“I work in space... don’t you think it would be smart of me to carry extra air?” Jon managed to sputter after taking several deep breaths.

“Oh, that is interesting,” I responded. “I calculated every detail, I ran the numbers several times to ensure accuracy (which I had no doubt would be right, I am a Level VII Intelligence, you know), yet the one factor that I did not anticipate was a can of air strapped to your arm. I believe this is what you call irony. How intriguing.”

Jon still seemed pretty dizzy from the poisonous gas, but he was working himself forward to the control panel while tapping the buttons on his Wristcomm.

“I’ve got something intriguing for you.”

“Oh please, Jon. Is that supposed to be one of your ‘tough guy lines?’ I think you can do much better. I have the utmost confidence in that.”

“Hmm,” Jon snorted as he stumbled forward, crashing his body into the copilot’s seat to steady himself.

“I’ll tell you what,” I offered. “We are now in space, I can pop open that hatch and just let the explosive decompression suck you out into space. Would you like that?”

“Suck on this.” Jon aimed his wrist device right where I was docked and fired.