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JULIAN: A glowing green computer screen shines upon my six saltines, and as I digest them one by one, I think about my girl. She’s gone. A radar blip could be a ship, or just a broken microchip, and as I inspect them one by one, I hope it’s just a system malfunction, and I wonder: Will she be faithful? Will she be mine, if he makes a move on her? My broken toe; a UFO; I’m paralyzed and it gets closer, and as I re-check the radartron, I think about phasers set on stun, and I wonder: Will she be faithful? Will she be mine, if he makes a move? And should I be fearful, or should I try to soothe my nerves and get some sleep?
RADARTRON: The blip is a ship. Twenty-six thousand feet long, and fifty million beings strong. These sentient life forms live in space dorms. They have large brains and claws, razor-like mandibles, and protrusions like straws. Caution. Danger.
JULIAN: Will she be faithful? Will she be mine, if he makes a move? And will they be peaceful? Or will they try to disembowel me in my sleep?