Chapter 1 - Welcome to Boringville Station. Population: Me

Every kid eventually grows up. That is, unless they’ve been bathed in the quantum tachyon radiation of a singularity at the center of the galaxy. And there’s only one kid in the universe who’s managed that particular feat.

But that’s not where this story begins, so pin that in your data streams and shift your focus to Albion VII, in the humble Colony Pod number 14. Unaffectionately known as Boringville Station.

Young Wendy Darling was already starting to realize that unless she figured out a way to defy the laws of gravity, time, and probability, she was destined to become just as boring as all the adults around her.

And for her, that simply would not do.

If there was a place in the galaxy that was the most boring, it would be on a Federation colony. And if there was a job that was the most boring job on a Federation colony, it would be the job of actuarial clerk. You’d think that living on a colony planet would be filled with exciting adventure, but the truth was, by the time the colonists arrived in their huge ships, the planet had been basically tamed by the Federation. Scouts had explored every inch of the planet, and through a massive set of calculations and formulas, selected the safest location to place the colony.

There simply wasn’t room left for danger or excitement or adventure. And so, the life of a colonist was pretty boring.

What made it worse in Wendy’s mind was that the boringness seemed to be intentional. It was all part of the plan. The role of actuarial clerk was to ensure that everything stayed as boring as possible. They ran calculations all day long, analyzing risks and determining how to avoid anything approaching danger (i.e. fun). It was the job of the actuarial clerk to make sure that it stayed boring and perhaps even to plan for it to get even more boring as the colony established itself.

As such, Wendy reasoned that her father, the actuarial supervisor on Albion VII, was possibly the most boring man in the entire galaxy. And by extension, their home in colony pod 14 was the most boring place in the galaxy.

Or as previously mentioned: Boringville Station.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Wendy,” her mother told her as she tucked her into bed.

“You are a bit of a drama queen,” her younger brother John said as he parried a sword thrust from Michael, her younger, younger brother. Wendy shared the room with John and Michael, which was interminably annoying. They were currently engaged in an epic sword fight that made Wendy roll her eyes.

“But why does Dad always have to ruin everything by being such a bore?” Wendy asked, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a pout firmly set on her face.

“Just because your father doesn’t think it’s a good idea for you to join the advanced survey class doesn’t mean he’s a bore,” Mrs. Darling explained. “He’s just… cautious.”

Indeed, Mr. Darling’s motto in life was “caution keeps you alive.” As a motto, it was characteristically dull.

“Truth be told,” Mr. Darling said as he came bursting into the room. “I don’t think anyone should explore past the ridge. Let alone some school kids. There’s a reason we built the colony where we did, Wendy. Our calculations were very clear.” He stood staring disapprovingly at John and Michael, hands on hips, and they slowly realized they were the subjects of his disapproving stare.

“What have I said about roughhousing at bedtime?”

John and Michael stopped, their arms sagging at their sides. “Sorry,” they said in unison. Mr. Darling collected their “swords,” which in this case were two lengths of the hard tubing that was used in the irrigation beds. They always seemed to have some kind of detritus or other, and more often than not, it was being used as a sword, gun, or other implement of war.

Boys are so weird, she thought to herself.

Wendy knew they were about to get it for digging in the junk pile out back, and inwardly smiled. Little brothers could be so annoying, and John and Michael rarely got in trouble, despite being two of the most troublesome children on Albion VII, so Wendy was eagerly anticipating their imminent downfall.

“Now, get in bed, you two,” Mr. Darling said, putting the hose into the trash receptacle in the wall. “And if I catch you in the junk pile again, I’m going to take away your game pads for a month.” John and Michael moaned and groaned, which apparently satisfied Mr. Darling that he’d laid down the law to his children. He turned to Mrs. Darling and forced a smile. “Mary, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.”

“Yes, George, let me tuck in the boys,, and then we can go.” Mrs. Darling kissed Wendy on her forehead and adjusted her blankets. Then she crossed the room where Michael and John were flopping around on top of their bed. “Under the covers, the both of you,” she said with a stern chuckle.

Mr. Darling gave Wendy a kiss goodnight and then turned to watch Mrs. Darling arrange Michael’s collection of stuffed animals around him and take a toy laser gun from where John tried to hide it under his pillow.

“You two have too much energy,” she said, putting a hand on each of their chests. “Be at peace.” She leaned down and gave them both good night kisses, recovering them with their blankets several times as they wriggled around.

Finally reaching a detente, the boys settled, and the Darlings departed, off to a dinner or party or something else that kids don’t get to attend where grownups talk about silly things like actuarial tables and the weather.

But lest you worry, the children were not left alone. The robotic N.A.N.A. (Nanny Android for Nurture and Aid) watched over them, rolling into the room on soft treads, beeping and whirring as it scanned the room. N.A.N.A. was a marvel. She had subroutines for proper bath temperature, a database of over 5,000 lullabies, and an uncanny instinct for distinguishing dangerous coughs from fake sick days.

“Good night, children,” the robot said in its mechanical voice, quietly rolling backwards out of the room and turning out the lights via wireless connection.

As she drifted off to sleep, Wendy stared out the window at the stars and longed for adventure.

✧✧✧

You probably thought I forgot about him, but let’s get back to the one boy in the universe who never grows up. You know, the one irradiated with quantum tachyon particles from the singularity at the center of the galaxy? The one you pinned to your data streams.

Yes, that one.

There was only one Peter Starchaser. Not only did he never grow older, but he also approached life with enthusiasm that few could keep up with. Everything was about the adventure for him. Life was a game. Even when that game was deadly dangerous, Peter laughed and kept playing.

He was also a restless soul, impatient and easily distracted. That was how this whole thing got started, in fact. Peter was meant to be doing one thing (a boring thing), but something else caught his attention. That happened more than Peter would have ever admitted.

It started a few days before the Darlings tucked in their children for bed and left for their boring adult dinner party.

Peter had been scrounging in the junk pile outside Pod 14. Peter’s spaceship, The Neverland, was broken again, and Peter was looking for something that looked like a cone with three tubes attached to another something that looked like a pineapple. He didn’t know what it did, but the one that was currently attached to the engine of The Neverland was smoking and sparking, and the ship didn’t fly right. He figured he needed a new one, so he was hoping there was another cone pineapple thingy in this pile.

But that was boring, and as he rummaged through the junk, Peter’s mind kept wandering, thinking about what kind of adventures he could have when he got back to the ship. Then he heard voices coming from the window of the colony pod. Whatever they were talking about sounded a lot more interesting than digging through spare parts and junk, so he stopped to listen.

“I actually won first place in the invention contest,” a girl was saying.

“That’s great to hear, honey,” said a woman. But Peter didn’t think she sounded that interested in what the girl was talking about. He, on the other hand, was drawn to her voice for some reason, so he flew up to the window so he could hear better and peek in (more about flying will be discussed in the next chapter).

“My teacher said that he hadn’t seen that level of engineering even from some of the upper-level students,” said the girl. She had wavy shoulder-length brown hair and was showing an older lady some kind of device that looked like it was really high-tech.

Peter felt that technical stuff was boring to think about, but he did like using all sorts of gadgets, especially when they did something cool.

He watched as two boys who were smaller than the girl came into the room dressed up in capes and funny hats. Peter could tell that they were engaged in some sort of epic make-believe, and he approved of that greatly. The next best thing to real adventure was pretend adventure.

“Time for bed, children,” a mechanical voice said. Peter cringed as he saw a white robot roll into the room and start fussing about, picking up toys and torturing the children with tiny brushes for their teeth.

Yuck, Peter thought, feeling badly for the children, especially the boys whose game had been interrupted.

Shrugging, Peter went back to the junk pile and tried to remember what he was supposed to be looking for. Remembering things was not Peter’s forte, and before too long, he was starting to get curious about the children in the room, again. He was especially curious about the device the girl had made and what it did. He wondered if it was something cool. Maybe he could borrow it.

Peter floated back to the room and saw it was now dark, so he flew inside to look around. He saw the two boys had some kind of laser guns next to their beds. Peter smiled broadly, but he didn’t see the girl’s invention anywhere.

Just then, Peter heard a soft chirping from the other room, like the sound of an alarm. He’d heard stuff like that on The Neverland, and it never meant anything good. Peter hid behind a chair and held his breath. The white robot rolled into the room, and Peter tensed.

“Intruder alert,” the robot said, even though Peter was really good at hiding.

“No fair,” Peter said, thumbing his nose at the silly machine while he dashed out the window. He bumped into the windowsill as he zipped away.

He decided to head back to the ship when he noticed he’d dropped his comm unit. He turned to go back for it, but when he got to the window, he saw the older woman standing next to the robot. Peter stopped and hovered just to the side of the window, listening to their conversation.

“Don’t wake the children, N.A.N.A.,” the woman shushed. She picked up his comm device.

“Stars and blazes,” Peter mumbled under his breath.

“Those kids leave their toys all over the place,” the lady said, looking at Peter’s comm unit. “I don’t recognize this, though, N.A.N.A.. It must be one of Wendy’s inventions.” She came over and closed the window, effectively shutting Peter out of the room.

And that was how Peter lost his comm unit.

Fast forward to the night the Darlings left for their grown-up party. Peter needed his comm, so he sneaked back into the room after the children had gone to sleep, glad the window was open again. This time, Peter brought his Pix-E robot to help him locate the comm. T.I.N.K. (Tactical Interface for Navigation and Knowledge) normally stayed behind on the ship, but she was really good at finding things, and Peter knew she would help him.

But despite T.I.N.K. scanning the room, she could not find the comm, and Peter didn’t see it anywhere. Besides being easily bored, Peter was also easily upset. He sat down in the middle of the floor. Frustrated. And he started to cry.

After all, though Peter was a dashing space adventurer, he was still just a little boy.

The girl woke up and saw Peter sitting in his green coat in the middle of her floor.

“Boy, why are you crying?” she asked, sitting up in bed.