(Update: Reposted with editing mistakes corrected. My apologies for the errors.)
When Flight Control assigned us utility privileges, I don’t think they
expected me to brew espresso in the centrifugal head. But the weight of the
espresso machine was well within the parameters they’d set, as was my use of
a couple of ounces of fresh water and a fraction of the ship’s power supply
each day, so there was nothing, really, they could say or do about it.
Privileges are privileges, and if the purpose was to give both of us
something to keep us happy, it worked for me. My morning espresso ritual
kept me sane. I looked forward to it every day.
Richard, however, wasn’t quite as tolerant as Flight Control.
Rated R. Contains violence, strong language, and disturbed individuals. Who use strong language and violence.