I will one day evolve a habitat
A look of utter disdain briefly crossed her face before she tutted something about chivalry being dead, slamming the door in my face. Space bathrooms are the biggest problem, in my opinion. People liked to complain about the food or the smell in certain areas, but it was the bathrooms that got to me.
Back on Earth, I had been told that spaceships were designed like enormous resorts, propagated as being similar to an all-inclusive vacation. Everything had been thought of, and there was nothing to worry about… it was mostly true. They had literally thought of everything, even if often the proportions were way off. The ministry had blamed an AI software prank that had been caught quickly and only affected the first three generations of still-functioning megaships.
I leaned against the wall, mentally drafting a journal entry as I waited for my turn. Once I earn more credits, I can continue moving up in society, and I will one day evolve a habitat without bathroom problems.
On the closed bathroom door was an advertisement for a new disorder interfaced with my cerebral mod. It was a nice jingle letting me know about a new disorder… if diagnosed, it permits licensed line-cutting. It was costly. Best to save credits and just move to a new habitat… watching the advertisement, though, I am sure I have this disorder. I almost have enough credits for the first consultation. They say other ships are bigger, better designed. This one feels cramped. There is no place to hide, with too many rules and no privacy. Except in the bathroom.
I shut my eyes and engage my cerebral meditation sequence. Only 2 million more credits until I can afford to enter the lottery for a status upgrade. I just needed to stay the course. Don’t do anything to lose credits; that was more important than gaining.
The disdainful glance and the slam of the door encapsulate the broader narrative of life aboard these ships. Constraint is everywhere, not just in the physical limitations but in the social and psychological realms as well. The space bathroom becomes a symbol of these constraints, a focal point for the frustrations of living in such an environment.
On Earth, the promises of space travel were grand, painting a picture of luxury and ease. But reality, as always, was more complex. The early generations of megaships, designed with AI assistance, ended up with quirks and limitations that were unforeseen. The ministry’s quick blame on an AI prank is a reminder of the fallibility in our reliance on technology and the need for human oversight and discipline.
Constraint and discipline echo through the teachings of many philosophers. From the Stoic reflections of Epictetus, who spoke of inner freedom despite external limitations, to Foucault’s analysis of disciplinary societies, these constraints shape our existence. Onboard, every action is scrutinized, every move monitored, reminiscent of Bentham’s Panopticon—a structure designed to enforce discipline through perpetual surveillance.
The cerebral meditation sequence, a tool for managing stress and maintaining focus, is a nod to mindfulness practices advocated by philosophers and psychologists alike. It’s a means of cultivating inner discipline, akin to the meditative practices of Zen Buddhism, which emphasize the importance of mental clarity and inner peace amidst chaos.
The promise of moving to a better habitat drives much of the behavior on these ships. The idea that one can transcend the current limitations by earning more credits and securing a spot in a more advanced habitat is both motivating and constraining. It instills a sense of discipline—stay the course, earn credits, avoid unnecessary expenditures.
The concept of constraint here is not just physical but psychological. The constant reminders of what could be—better habitats, more space, greater privacy—create a tension between the present reality and future possibilities. This tension is a powerful force, shaping behavior and attitudes, driving people to adhere strictly to their routines and goals.
From an environmental science perspective, the constraints of living on a spaceship highlight the importance of resource management and sustainable living. The closed systems of the ship mirror the closed systems of Earth, where resources must be carefully managed and waste minimized. The bathrooms, often the most complained about aspect, are a microcosm of this larger issue—how to maintain hygiene and manage waste in a closed system.
Psychologically, the discipline required to live under such constraints can be both a burden and a source of growth. Engaging the cerebral meditation sequence is not just a way to pass time but a necessary practice to maintain mental health. The constant need to save credits, to avoid unnecessary losses, becomes a form of psychological training, fostering resilience and patience.
Living with constraint requires a deep understanding of discipline, not just as a set of rules to follow but as a way of life. Philosophically, it echoes the teachings of Stoicism, where the focus is on controlling what one can and accepting what one cannot. The physical limitations of the ship become a backdrop for this philosophical journey, a constant reminder of the need for inner discipline.
Psychologically, the struggle with constraint is a path to self-discovery. It forces individuals to confront their desires, manage their frustrations, and find ways to maintain their well-being within tight confines. The cerebral mod’s advertisement, with its promise of line-cutting for those diagnosed with a new disorder, is a test of this discipline—tempting, but costly.
all rights reserved on all xawat works
