Sylvia 2

The Lieutenant in charge, a young guy, smiles affably, "now you see we choose the exact moment of optimal release. That is, timed to hit the target exactly, taking the Earth's rotation into account. Even if we are a bit out, it's no big deal. Earth turns at about 1,000 miles per hour. So being a whole minute out is some 16 miles. The tracking device is rigged to hit your target human as long as you are within a 100 mile radius.
"Ok, maybe things go sour, your target human dies too quickly or is away on a trip. No big deal, the tracker switches to target of opportunity, analyzes everything within a 100 mile radius and lands you in the best choice. Questions?"
"So what do I do if I end up in a target of opportunity?"
Goofy grin, "my friend, then that four days of briefing is a dead loss. Have to improv. And it really doesn't matter anyhow, Earth being such a complete and utter clown show. They won't notice one more."
I groan aloud.
Easy smile, "oh come on, don't get uptight. In 300 transmissions, it's gone target of opportunity only twice. Odds are good."
Famous last words I think.
As they buckle me into the harness, I start laughing.
Lt grins uneasily, "never heard that before. Usually they cry or scream. So what's funny?"
"We-ell I jsut realized all that student loan to do the year in tech. What with the minimum wage photo processing job, the deductions and rent, I have yet to meet even one payment."
Giggles among the launch crew.
I continue, "so you tell that Ivan Petrov (Minister in charge of the Student Loan Program) to paint my file purple and shove it where the sun don't shine."
Loud roars of laughter, to the point some get hiccups.
"Action stations," Lt says cheerfully, "we reach optimal in 12 minutes."
To be fair, they launch at exact second of optimal, at which point I black out.
Still, something went wrong. Given that our year is equal to 1.01 Earthling years, it should be easy to guess ages accurately.
So why does the figure staring back from the bedroom mirror look 30? Even if I'm out by 5, it still ain't the ten year old.
I lie back down, to sleep off the headache, which techies affirm lasts two hours after transmission.
The bedroom door opens, it's a man, probably same age. Grim look, "time we talked."
"Go away, can't you see I have a headache?"
"No, if I do, you'll just lie there all weekend. We hafta talk, and now."
"Ok then, but at least have the decency to bring aspirin first."
He brings two aspirin and water, then, "enough is enough. I have had it to here (runs his finger along his throat) with all these wild mood swings. I'm going out that door, and now."
"Don't slam it, I have a headache."
"Smart ass, always the smart ass. Well look at the bright side, arrangements are easy. Apartment rent comes outa your account monthly, can continue to do so. Car payment and insurance, outa mine, can continue to do so, as I'll be taking the car."
"You like the car more than me."
Frustrated groan, "you are sick, need counselling."
"Go on, probably just found someone with bigger tits."
His blush says I hit the target. He throws clothes into a suitcase, vanishes.
I lie back down to quell the headache.
Just as the headache fades, as I'm pondering exploring the apartment the phone rings.
It being similar to ours, I pick it up, "hello?"
"Sylvia, Naomi here. Voice sounds different a bit, got a cold?"
"Bit of one."
"So, is it true? Did he leave you for the b**** goddess?"
"What do you think?"
Uneasy laugh, "I don't like that chippy attitude."
"Why not?"
Much louder, "listen up, just because he happens to be my brother, no reason to get snooty on me. I didn't ask to have him as a brother, you know."
Soothing tone, "look Naomi, forgive me if I sounded a bit abrupt. I happen to have a bad headache. And yes, he left, complete with clothes and car. Didn't mention the b**** goddess though."
"Men never do. Look Sylvia, it's no big deal. Even though he is my bro, I know he's a bum. And it's not like you're legally married or anything. Someone else will come along. We'll talk later."
Well now, there are compensations to being an Earthling. No cops banging on my door if I fail to find a replacement for him in a year.
A search reveals an ID card proclaiming I work for XYZ, as a photo processor. Stroke of good fortune, I understand Earthling gear is similar to ours. Seeing a monthly transit pass makes me uneasy, how do I find the place?
This sorts itself. Naomi calls, to find out if I'll be ok for work Monday.
Gleaning info, she's in the same building, stops by my door and we go together.
Another stroke of good fortune, until she discovers I'm a phony.
But then again, maybe not. If I really do experience the mood swings, chances are she's used to it.
An hour after starting work Monday, I realize it's doable. Earthling lab gear is maybe ten years behind ours.
As for the rest of it, it'll come. Or not.
Naomi passes by my workstation. Blush, "look sorry I got rude with you. I's afraid you'd dump me as a friend, I mean after that idiot well ah. So, no hard feelings, still friends?"
I smile easily, "forget him. One needs all the friends one can get. I don't blame you for his behavior."
I see her look of relief.
So far, so good.