Alex Deva's Blog: Dinners on a Starship

Mark nearly choked. "Brixit?" he asked.

The neutral voice of the ADM supplied a clarification. "It was an early attempt to word it," it said, "and it made more sense, purely technically. But Brexit sounded more like Grexit."

"I'd heard of Grexit," said the Brit. "We had a Greek guy in the hospital and his wife used to sneak him news from the outside. But that didn't happen, did it?"

"Yes it did," answered the computer, "only not in 2013 when you heard about it. Brexit also happened. Twice."

Mark shook his head. "Insane," he muttered.

Aram had still not bitten the meal bar he'd held in front of his mouth, but at this, he finally took a small bite, glanced at Doina, and mumbled in turn: "Look who's talking."

Doina smiled, not looking at either of them.

"What?" asked the Brit.

The Dacian and the young girl said nothing.

"What?!" repeated Mark.

Aram coughed slightly, then raised a finger and said: "Marxit." Doina guffawed.

"Oh for the sake of!" exhaled Mark.

"Well, you did leave, didn't you?" said Aram.

"Yeah, but not of my own will, as you well know."

"And you think Aramxit was more..." and here the Dacian dug for a good word, successfully coming up with: "...intersubjective?"

"Ce?" asked the girl, in Romanian.

"Shut up, Doixit," said the Dacian.

"Jesus, you've been working on that..."

"...for a full minute now, yeah," nodded the Dacian, smugly.

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