7. Another type of Emergency

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"Can you please stop staring at me? I feel like a prisoner." Zezilia said.

"Who knows what you'll do if you're left to your own devices?" Karen answered coldly. "I'm staying here until we're home safely." Zezilia groaned in response but didn't continue to argue.

The room was silent except for Zezilia's occasional tapping at the control board. Miguel and Carlos were sitting on chairs along the wall, but neither dared to speak. Karen's foul mood was no laughing matter and even though her anger was directed at the incompetent adult, they themselves weren't exactly in her best graces; it was possible that she could lash out at them too. Maybe? Better be safe than sorry and stay put. At least that was the plan.

Being still and quiet was fine for Miguel. For about five minutes. His body had to move. He could feel it. He tried to resist and think about something else, but it didn't help. It had been several hours and his body neared its breaking point. He began to squirm in his seat. There were two options available to him. One, stay quiet in his seat and embarrass himself in front of the others in an action that they never would let him forget. Two, embarrass himself by breaking the silence but not doing something memorable. Faced with these two options he chose the latter and opened his mouth.

"I need to use the bathroom." He said it in a whisper, but due to the silence everyone heard him. No one answered him. Miguel could feel heat rushing to his cheeks. This was such bad timing. Carlos looked at him with a face of, worry? Fear? Something in that direction. The silence was like a heavy blanket and Miguel was about to give up.

"What's stopping you?" Karen said in her usual voice. Miguel looked up at her and she had turned her chair slightly to face him. "Why are you acting as if you need permission?"

"Well, no... um." Miguel stumbled. Her sudden change in attitude was unexpected and he didn't know what to say. Had she been too focused on Zezilia that she hadn't noticed the tense atmosphere? Whatever the reason behind Karen's behaviour was, Miguel didn't have the time to think about it. He was close to an emergency and quickly walked out the room.

"I think I need to go too..." Zezilia said and began to stand up.

"No, you don't." Karen's cold and harsh tone was back and it forced Zezilia back into her seat. The woman began to make some other weak excuses, but the doors closed behind him and Miguel couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. For maybe the first time in his life he was happy that his bladder needed emptying.

Miguel tried to remember were the toilet where. What had Zezilia said? In the office. A yellow part of the wall. That he was supposed to touch? It was something like that.

He was in what he assumed to be the office. It was the incredible clean room with a desk full of computers and walls full of sketches of Daydream and other machinery. There was however one piece of the wall that weren't covered in paper. A rectangular yellow piece of the wall. Miguel went up to it. He both knocked on and pushed it, but nothing happened. He didn't have time for this! If he didn't get to the toilet soon then there would be a very uncomfortable spot in his trousers and Ernest might make real of his threat to throw him out if that happened. As a last resort he pushed his fingers into the small gap that existed between the yellow panel and the rest of the wall and pulled. It took more force than he had anticipated, but finally it began to move. He pulled it down until it stopped and he heard a clicking noise. The wall to his right opened a small door and he rushed to it.

The bathroom was a bit cramped, but nothing special about it. He did his business washed his hands and flushed the toilet. Then the whole ship shook. The lights blacked out a second and turned back again. Terrified that he accidentally pushed the wrong button, normally the flush button was above the toilet but from what he had seen of Zezilia she might have made that button into some self-destruction thingy. He ran back to the others, barely remembering to hold up his trousers.

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