When you are in any building, especially if you intend to stay there, find the location of the emergency exits. -- Anon Guest
A quick way out is more important than any general way in. Ask anyone who's been trapped in a house fire, if you can. Safety regulations insist on clear and ready access to quick escape in case of disaster. In most areas of known space, this is an automatic and well-enforced law[1]. But it isn't just fire. Space is a place where anything at all could render a little bubble of life into sudden and certain death.
In many ports of call, sleep nooks are also survival pods, made to snap shut with the unaware occupant kept safe and alive until rescue. Others seal off the entire habitat for the same purpose. Still more, far older ones, have publicly available lifepods and escape diagrams etched into the walls. It is against the law to block lifepod tracks.
Those of a paranoid state of mind always check up on this. Those who have become blase to stellar life and travel are the ones most often caught out even in the mildest of crises. When every ship and every station operates under different protocols, it never pays to disregard the complimentary safety pamphlet. And then there's the people who opine that safety is an imposition on their personal rights.
"You can't tell me where I'm allowed to go," shouted the Human. "I know my rights. You can't make me wear anything or do anything I don't want to. I don't care about your quote-unquote rules! They're only there to make sure I act like the rest of the sheeple in your quote-unquote fake station."
It's certainly not working that way, thought Security Officer Thain. He sent a message ahead to the stations' ERT's, We got another one. "Ma'am, beyond this door is a methane-only atmosphere. Do you understand how methane is toxic to your kind?"
"Methane schmethane, I know damn well this is the makeup and production room for your quote-unquote carnival ride. You can't fool me. I know the truth. Planets are fake. My holy book says there is only one firmament made by God. I will not participate in your blasphemy! There's no such thing as aliens. They're either people in costume or demons in disguise! Now out of my way or I will sue!"
She said the magic words. Officer Thain sent a ready signal to the ERT's as she stepped aside. Every year, there was another one. Wouldn't wear a livesuit, refused to co-operate with measures for anyone else's safety but their own, and threatened legal action against anyone who tried to get them to behave like a decent cogniscent being. It didn't matter what effluvium they spouted about why they were entitled to do whatever they wanted, they just needed the excuse.
There was also a protocol which Thain had followed to the letter. Now, she watched on her eyescreen as the conspiracy theorist strode through the airlock and quickly discovered that methane was not that great an atmosphere for humans. The ERT's were humans in livesuits, faceplates clear, and offered her a breath mask.
She refused right up until the moment she passed out. At which point, the ERT's were obligated to administer care. Up to and including the repairs to her damaged lungs. She would be billed for their time, cumulatively, and maybe even learn something from the experience.
When next Officer Thain checked up on her, the conspiracy theorist was raving about a "pocket hell" in the methane zones. A true sign of the devil's interference with good and decent folk. On the plus side, she was vowing to never enter a methane zone again. Thane counted that as progress.
[1] We hope the CEO's in Greater Deregulations will eventually get a clue about this.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Speedfighter]
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