Sixteen Sunrises Hotel

By L.G. McCary

Welcome to the Sixteen Sunrises, the universe’s first orbital hotel, at least as far as humanity knows. Please be careful as you move from the ferry shuttle to the hotel lobby.

Gravity? I’m sorry, gravity is extra. Would you like me to add it to your incidentals?

That’s a joke, ma’am. Ha. Artificial gravity is quite complicated and expensive and involves a lot of spinning. They might use it in the next version of orbital hotels, but this one is zero-G. I believe this was explained to you on the ground. Yes, ma’am, I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience of physics.

All out of the shuttle? Very good. My name is Ben. Allow me to give you a tour of our main area. Excuse me, miss? It’s mandatory. It’s more of a safety speech than a tour since pretty much anything can kill you in space because it’s space.

No, sir, I’m sorry you can’t wait in the lounge. Remember that massive stack of waivers you signed so you could shoot up here in the ferry ship? According to those waivers, you have to listen to my tour, or I can tuck you in the ship and send you right back down to Earth.

No, no refunds.

Thank you. We’ll begin over here at the front desk. I recommend pulling yourself along the tether line to your right until you get used to zero-G. Please, sir, if you’re going to vomit, use one of the bags in the box there. You all might want to grab a few. Human vomit is even more unpleasant to clean in zero-G. I speak from vast experience.

Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to please stop catching bubbles of vodka shots and listen because, believe it or not, space doesn’t care how much money you have. 

Again, welcome to Sixteen Sunrises, and if you’ll all stay together, please, as I demonstrate all the ways this space hotel can maim and kill you.

I’m sorry, did you say you saw someone outside the door? Nonsense. This isn’t the Ritz where you can go next door for a bite to eat. It’s only satellites and other space junk out there.

Once more, my name is Ben, and I’m the concierge-head janitor-undertaker.

Yes, I said undertaker, ma’am. What a lovely laugh you have, but that wasn’t a joke. The vacuum of space is pretty determined to murder us, and I’ve noticed quite a few guests seem to want to help it along.

Right, front desk. This lovely round ball of a room is the center of our hotel, and you can see behind me the tunnels branching off in several directions, much like the spokes of a wheel. Yes, it is very confusing, especially when one has had several bubbles of vodka. I will now hand out your room keys, which are color-coded to the tunnel walls for convenience. Please clip the key to your clothing.

Ma’am, I’m sure the clip won’t damage your designer spacesuit. It’s a masterpiece of chartreuse, but you must clip the key to it. Otherwise, you’ll have to ask me to open your room every single time, and no one wants that, least of all me. Now you four over there are in the blue tunnel. No, ma’am, you cannot change rooms. We carefully calibrate occupancy to protect the hull's integrity, oxygen saturation, and lots of other science-y things you don’t want to worry about. You know, that whole problem with space trying to kill you. I assure you, you will love your room. The tunnel walls are blue, but the room has white walls. I see. Perhaps you might save us all some time and hop back on the ferry ship.

No? Let’s continue. You two are in the purple hallway, you three in the green. I’m sorry, what is your name? Ah, you’re the junior scientist they sent up. You’re in the yellow hallway with the staff. Don’t be disappointed. Your room probably won’t smell like bodily fluids.

Does everyone have their tag clipped on? Excellent.

If you look up, you’ll see our chandelier. If you’re going to be sick, please aim for the floor or a wall, not the chandelier. I get very tired of cleaning all those shiny pieces. Sixteen Sunrises has now been in operation for an entire year, which is why I know to specifically mention the sick bags as soon as new guests come on board.

Speaking of sick bags, let’s check out the meal hall down the orange hall. It is much safer for you to eat in the meal hall than in your room, but I realize you’ll do whatever you want. Our meals here at Sixteen Sunrises are created by culinary experts to be the most delicious, exciting, and beautiful delicacies you’ve ever tasted. Then they’re vacuum packed and frozen and shot up here in the ferry shuttle and reheated in a microwave. I recommend the chicken. We also have a limited bar, and I want to warn you right now that there is a one-bottle per meal limit for all guests as a safety precaution. And before you ask, carbonated beverages produce some unpleasant side effects in zero-G, so we do not have champagne.

On the subject of booze, I really must ask you to please stop taking vodka shots, miss, at least until I show you to your room. I’m sorry, what? I can’t understand through all the slurring. Sir, can you understand her? Oh, I see. A friend told her it would help with nausea. Miss, your friend is an idiot. You’re sick because you’re falling toward Earth at ten thousand miles an hour in a giant glorified soda can, and your vestibular system doesn’t approve. I must insist you listen to my safety speech and at least pretend to pay attention to this tour, or I will put you right back on the shuttle.

No, it’s still there. The ship doesn’t leave until I tell Captain David he doesn’t have any return passengers, and I won’t do that until after my safety speech.

Yes, I do know who you are. Your name is on the ironclad waiver you signed on the ground, but I do have a copy on my computer if you’d like me to… I thought not.

Let’s proceed to the observation room past the main desk and down the red hall. Pull along the tether lines to get moving if you’re having trouble.

I’m sorry, you thought you saw what outside the window? No, ma’am, the staff are all inside. No one is on a spacewalk at the moment. Perhaps you understand why I don’t recommend taking vodka bubbles?

I’m sorry, you want to go on a spacewalk?

Excuse me, miss, might I borrow one of those bubbles of vodka? Thank you.

No, we do not offer spacewalks as part of our entertainment package, and we definitely wouldn’t allow it for guests who are inebriated. There’s too high a risk of death, and the risk is already, ahem, sky-high.

Pun.

Sir, please trust me on this point. I’m the one who handles the dead bodies.

Oh yes, they happen more frequently than Sixteen Sunrises would ever admit. We have a dedicated freezer for them. It’s empty, but if you’d like, I can make sure you fit? I thought not.

Anyway, here we are. The observation room! This spherical room of windows is made of glass with the highest impact-rating scientifically possible without destroying the view. As always, there are tether lines to different points. That great big blue ball is Earth, and I should warn you…

Yes, there are plenty of vomit sacks in that box there. Good reflexes, sir.

When your vestibular system finally gives up trying to make sense of the insanity of falling sideways at speeds it can’t comprehend, you might enjoy the AR consoles at the sides and center of the room that will label the various features of Earth as they pass.

More sacks? I keep ten in my pocket at all times, ma’am. You’re welcome.

That concludes my safety speech. I’m sure none of you will remember it in twelve hours, but you are free to float to your rooms. Please press the large green button on the wall of your room if you have a vomit-related emergency. Only press the red if it’s something else. My staff will be up to help you eventually.

Ah, one lone soul left. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The vomit glistens like diamonds if the sun hits it right. Oh, and the Earth is lovely, too. When the firm asked you to take this job, they didn’t warn you about the bodily fluids, did they? That’s why being on the staff hall is a blessing, my friend.

How did I get this job? I’m sure many guests wonder about that. It’s because I have such a sunny disposition and desire to help people.

I’m sorry, I can’t keep a straight face! No, I have a degree in aerospace engineering, and Sixteen Sunrises has an excellent student loan repayment program. At the end of the year, I’ll be free to find a job on Earth that doesn’t require cleaning bodily fluids off of chandeliers or putting dead people in a freezer.

Please don’t scream, sir! Yes, that is a person outside the window, but I assure you he’s harmless. And dead. That’s what happens when you’re outside without a spacesuit. People notice him, but I’m not allowed to mention him during my speech: lawyers and all that.

Well, yes, he looks a bit like a snowman, I agree. Before you see the back of the puffy coat where it tore on the hull, he’s just about the right shape. If you want to know a little staff secret, we call him Frosty. He’s one of those Something-Something-Something the Fourths. I suspect there will not be a fifth.

No, he’s frozen solid. I wouldn’t look at his eyes if I were you. The left one didn’t handle the vacuum of space well at all. A bit unnerving. Did you know that water instantly evaporates into a gaseous state in space? The spit on your tongue and your tears boil.

There, there. Deep breaths. Here’s another bag. I keep a stack of one hundred in every common room of the hotel.

He was a guest, actually, and he’s been out there for quite some time. His mother refuses to pay the retrieval fee, so he’ll keep drifting around until he either burns up in the atmosphere or hits something expensive, like a satellite.

How did he end up out there? Well, it’s simple. He didn’t pay attention to my safety speech.

Thank you for visiting the Sixteen Sunrises. Have a lovely stay.