2780-Space station (424011) -SpaceHousing 01

Zatland: Dad!...

Zatland: Noooo… It can't be.

Zatland: Whyyyyyyyyy!

In this year 2780 on January 24th Dr. Frenor Zuallen, a universally renowned scientist of the milky way galaxy Died.

There was no evidence as too foul play, but it seemed highly likely that the man had committed suicide, at the ripe young age of 46.

Quite a young age to die, especially for a person in a highly decorated field of study.

He was survived by his only son Zatland Zuallen of Covenant Municipal University.

In his years, Frenor had strived to move forward in the making of multiple scientific advancements, in the fields of pharmaceutical and prosthetics. he lived a life of excellence from a young man, outsmarting his instructor's and learning all yearly curriculum of the class on his own.

Proven to be a man always in a hurry. His use of his unique Mindset in finding the alternative, efficient, and faster route towards advanced goals in science, allowed him to help advance many previous scientific discoveries.

It was almost like he had a way to connect everything with words.

paving his way to success. It would pain all too know; he seemed to have had the same alternative way of thinking about life, choosing that when it got too insufficient for him, he would end his own.

Final work's unfinished, a man must continue his journey home; hopefully, future generations can keep in this man footsteps, academically.

God knows we can't all just go and die.

For a bright future in which suicide is a lesser statistic among Earthling people, even the least successful.

P.o. V Zatland Mind

My dad is dead… I Found his body hanging from the Stairwell of our H2-42 grade sized apartment.

the size of our home was one of the 16 largest homes on the Space station Tari(424011), so natural it would be counted as one of the twenty-three places a man could choose to end his life: by hanging.

in 239 miles.

I just wanted to add the math. (Pause)

We lived in a backwater sector called Tari (424011), the numbers being our area code.

In that same distance, nobody had a gravity machine faulty enough to allow a man to strangle themselves.

There had been a string of faulty gravity machine almost leading to death a few light years away, but "almost" being the Answer.

to have somehow owned a defective brand machine, purchased from a now out of the commissioned warehouse. One that was thought to have been burned down.

Bullshit!

All our shit was made by the military. Why would we own a civilian grade gravity machine???

[One could not call attention to that coincidence based on logic; that a man owns a personal gravity machine. And that said machine would have enough juice, to stimulate enough gravity, to hang that said man by the ceiling.]

Yet for a man to be as prosperous as my father, it was self-explanatory that he could have got his hands on such a machine, hoping to own it and used it for some form of particular purpose…

Ok, He had a personal laboratory under the house, Ok enough energy coursed through it to power an entire military base….

You could only blame it on my father's success, to have the perfect faulty machine in which to commit suicide with.

Who knew after all his hard work, he would even overly engineer his own death.

He Wrote something in his will, like 'dying this way is too feel closer to the earth and feel the gravitational force like my ancestor once did."

…

Fucking poetic, my dad, was actually crazy like that I Know, and he did have a tremendous love for history.

But my father was more prone to taking the easy way out of things. With all the advancement in pharmacology, when my father could have just taken a pill and died in the most painless and pleasurable of ways possible…not to mention his natural access to such drug being a scientist who created them, he chose to suffocate to death instead?

The great Dr.Frenor Zuallen, took the most straightforward route out in plenty of things, he was a realist, if he could take longer to do something for the same remuneration as doing it faster, he would choose to wait longer.

At the same time if something became harder the longer it took to handle, he'd finish it faster.

This is why a lot of his scientific innovations, revolved around the concept of making procedures easier.

If given a choice between the pill or the rope he would choose the pill. It was less work for the same payout: which was death….

That's how the man honestly thought; he was most definitely a historical nationalist. But his beliefs never once came before his logical thinking. And he wasn't lazy, despite seeming lazy.

My father had an altered way of thinking.

it was far from being lazy, it just prioritized things in different order from what the average man would.

His neck was constricted from the noose around it as his limp body hanged cold for me to find it?

He didn't even think about leaving behind his sixteen-year-old son? Primarily when I was about to graduate in a few months.

leaving behind that will, that instead of explanatory was contemplative, and way off point from what I would have wanted to hear.

(Tricky)

He did all this while trying to hide his suicidal tendencies from me?

Tricky....

Narrator

Zatland sounded skeptical, but there was no reason to be, Frenor was under a lot of stress.

Maybe he failed to find an answer on the brink of a discovery?

Maybe he was depressed about the prospect of floating through space, for so long?

Maybe he was tired of drinking recycled water, breathing artificial air, and seeing the same solitary darkness of space from his window.

It was a known rumor that Frenor Zaullen hadn't gone landbound for the past fifteen years. Lord knows those scientist types, always stressing over the same things, right?

P.o.V Zatland

Perhaps it was his disappointment in me, I've heard that from the dog licking lips of other people.

as a possible motive operand of suicide.

You know from the dog eating mouths of gossipers who knew no better than to whisper loudly...

But they do have a point, after generations of academic madmen that made my family, I was; I am in fact the most of mediocre intelligent among my bloodline in a while...

(But I'm still smarter than you B@#ch.)

P. o.V Zatlands Mind

[We live in the free-floating outreaches of space so sometimes depression can take hold of a man; suddenly and uncontrollable….

I believe it's an actual medical condition, I don't know the name too it.]

human are land-bound mammals; we were never supposed to fly.

But my father wasn't a mammal.

Neither was I capable of overlooking this. his way of suicide was just too tricky… too much work.

I put a noose around my neck to stimulate the mechanics of hanging strangulation. The choking and spitting of saliva, the mucosal discharge from the nose, the watery eyes, and flaying of the limbs.

Variable

I even added weights and restraining apparatuses to stimulate the development of my father's body stature and capabilities.

I didn't have a virtual image simulator, so I was acting it out on my own.

I and my father's body had vastly different capabilities, as I had already been through pre-military training, too strangle myself to death would take roughly fifteen minutes.

While for my father who hadn't received any training or bodily advancement, it would take around seven minutes for him to die from oxygen deprivation and brain death.

(Primitive.)

As my own body was a little more physically capable than my fathers. I depressed my oxygen intake myself. As my brain started to be deprived of air….

Slash

I cut myself loose.

Yuppp…with the looseness of my father's shoes on that day and with the deprivation of air and accounting for the human instinct to flay about, and strive for survival; there was no way in which he could not have kicked his shoes lose, during the final moments of his life.

I looked down at the clothing on my body, which was rough from the struggle I put up, instinctively as my air ran out….

…Dad was a firm-willed man when he made a decision, but the geek still hadn't learned to tie his shoes...Not with even the willpower of a supernova could he not struggle on the rope. Death is scary even when you're prepared for it.

his shoes were still on, and his clothing still neat and tidy when I found him.

I know all this, but the fact of the matter is I knew all this, and the authorities tasked with the investigation somehow missed all this...bullshit!

To continue looking for connections was dangerous right now. I could feel it in the air, a conspiracy was forming.

And Why that? Because there was no way in hell, the police wouldn't have noticed this weirdness in the clues. My father's death was listed as a suicide the same day it happened, the same day I found his body.

Somebody high up with a lot of influence had made it, so the world believed Dr. Frenor Zuallen killed himself.

Whoever it was could do whatever they wanted to me, I was being forced to put my feeling in the back of my mind, for now; Survival was my first priority, as the weirdness seemed to be telling me.

(Be cautious.)

I didn't want too, I needed revenge more than a horse needed water.

I was Furious!