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"Our little group has always been, and always will, until the end."
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2046
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Don held onto a bar of what was left of their crashed Jupiter; his eyes were closed since he got some remnants of the fuel in them. John, now looking through the wire bank, as Don sighed, trying to give the ginger man directions. "We're almost there. Find the green wire?"
"There is no green wire," John shook his head.
"Okay, find the black wire," Don nodded.
"There's no black wire."
"What do you see?"
"Whole bunch of wires," John grumbled, "none of which are green or black."
"Whoever installed this must've swapped out this unit with another controller to cut corners- It was probably that Williamson," Fon started getting angry, "-that cheap son of a bitch."
"So, what do I do here?"
"There are a thousand possible scenarios to choose from, only one of which would work." Don sighed, "I'd know if I saw it."
"Okay. Okay. You're just gonna have to see it. As it happens, our eyes have the ability to generate liquid. They're called tears."
Don raised his brows, not believing the man, "you want me to cry?"
"Yeah."
"Well, how?"
"Well, I don't know, I mean, I... Think of something sad. That seems to work for most people."
"I can't cry out of nowhere."
"Okay, okay. Picture all your family and friends you left behind on Earth that you may never see again."
"There's no one I really care about. Otherwise, I wouldn't have left. I've been on my own ever since before I could tie my shoelaces. Which I taught myself."
"I've seen a lot of orphans."
"Who says I'm an orphan? My parents are alive and well. Somewhere, I guess?"
