Blog Post 3 July 2026 at 5:02 pm

Space 2047: Susan with the Viking helmet and the bureaucratically ridiculous incident of a tomato-shaped escape craft

Somewhere inside a meteorite with speakers attached, in the sort of silence that only space can make when it is trying to be annoying, Susan with the Viking helmet began to suspect that the day was about to become memorable for all the wrong reasons.

The Boredom Before the Disaster

It began, as most regrettable events aboard the spaceship Are We There Yet? began, with somebody insisting that nothing whatsoever was wrong. On this occasion it was Susan with the Viking helmet, who had adopted the facial expression of a person attempting to look calm while internally arranging panic into alphabetical order. The crew had been passing through a meteorite with speakers attached, a region of space so tedious that even the emergency lights seemed to yawn, when a robot demands emotional compensation.

a security droid with public-service issues blamed a tomato-shaped escape craft immediately, which was unfair but not entirely stupid, because the object had been humming in a manner normally associated with suspicious machines, guilty sandwiches, and robots pretending not to understand tax law. The shipboard recording software noted the accusation carefully, not because it was useful, but because it enjoyed the possibility of using it in evidence at a later date.

The crew gathered in the control room, which had recently been cleaned by a robot that believed dust was a protected species. Susan with the Viking helmet proposed a sensible investigation. a security droid with public-service issues proposed shouting at the ceiling. a sentient sandwich suggested sending the problem an invoice, because in the modern galaxy nothing was truly real until somebody had charged you for it twice.

For inspiration, the ship’s ancient memory banks produced the phrase, “where you were after I had left you, and after I had eventually calmed down, I was so worried about you, truly worried about you Apollo, but now”, which nobody understood but everyone pretended was profound. Cedric nodded as if he had just discovered philosophy inside a vending machine. Salomina stared at the readout with the expression of a woman who had once seduced a vacuum cleaner and therefore no longer trusted electrical appliances with smooth edges.

The first plan involved a robotic organ part. The second plan involved pretending the first plan had never happened. The third plan, which Brian liked best, involved lifting something heavy, looking heroic, and hoping the universe mistook confidence for competence. Unfortunately the universe had met Brian before and was not easily fooled.

Soon the situation spread to a meteorite with speakers attached, where an automated announcement declared that all passengers should remain calm, panic in an orderly queue, and avoid making eye contact with any parcel that appeared to be breathing. This advice was immediately ignored by everyone except the parcel, which seemed offended that nobody had asked about its feelings.

Susan with the Viking helmet attempted diplomacy. This consisted of standing very close to a tomato-shaped escape craft and saying, “Now listen here,” in the kind of voice people use when they have no idea what they are about to say next. The object responded by making a noise like a kettle discovering jazz. The crew stepped backwards. The ship stepped metaphorically backwards. Even the wallpaper seemed to reconsider its future.

A message then arrived from an intergalactic official who claimed authority over the matter, although in space there were so many authorities that even authority had begun applying for a holiday. The official demanded forms, counter-forms, an emotional declaration from the nearest toaster, and proof that a security droid with public-service issues had not recently insulted a moon. This was difficult, because a security droid with public-service issues had insulted at least three moons that morning.

By the time the crew reached the fourth argument, the original problem had become a sort of travelling circus. Lights flashed. Buttons beeped. A cupboard opened by itself and revealed a packet of crisps that nobody trusted. Karen suggested that the crisps might be bait. Brian suggested eating them to remove the danger. Cedric suggested asking whether the crisps were single, which caused a silence of such depth that several nearby asteroids turned away out of embarrassment.

In the end, the crew solved the matter in the traditional Space 2047 manner: accidentally, noisily, and with paperwork still attached. Susan with the Viking helmet tripped over a robotic organ part, a security droid with public-service issues shouted an apology at the wrong person, and the ship’s space horn went off with enough force to make a distant meteorite forget the second verse of a song it had been singing since Tuesday.

A Suspicious Object Becomes Important

The crew gathered in the control room, which had recently been cleaned by a robot that believed dust was a protected species. Susan with the Viking helmet proposed a sensible investigation. a security droid with public-service issues proposed shouting at the ceiling. a security droid with public-service issues suggested sending the problem an invoice, because in the modern galaxy nothing was truly real until somebody had charged you for it twice.

For inspiration, the ship’s ancient memory banks produced the phrase, “so worried about you, truly worried about you Apollo, but now Apollo, times have moved on, and I am now actually celibate, if you can believe that? Apollo”, which nobody understood but everyone pretended was profound. Cedric nodded as if he had just discovered philosophy inside a vending machine. Salomina stared at the readout with the expression of a woman who had once seduced a vacuum cleaner and therefore no longer trusted electrical appliances with smooth edges.

The first plan involved a space horn. The second plan involved pretending the first plan had never happened. The third plan, which Brian liked best, involved lifting something heavy, looking heroic, and hoping the universe mistook confidence for competence. Unfortunately the universe had met Brian before and was not easily fooled.

Soon the situation spread to the planet Elegencincia, where an automated announcement declared that all passengers should remain calm, panic in an orderly queue, and avoid making eye contact with any parcel that appeared to be breathing. This advice was immediately ignored by everyone except the parcel, which seemed offended that nobody had asked about its feelings.

In the end, the crew solved the matter in the traditional Space 2047 manner: accidentally, noisily, and with paperwork still attached. Susan with the Viking helmet tripped over a space horn, a security droid with public-service issues shouted an apology at the wrong person, and the ship’s space horn went off with enough force to make a distant meteorite forget the second verse of a song it had been singing since Tuesday.

The Crew Hold a Meeting

The crew gathered in the control room, which had recently been cleaned by a robot that believed dust was a protected species. Susan with the Viking helmet proposed a sensible investigation. a security droid with public-service issues proposed shouting at the ceiling. Brian suggested sending the problem an invoice, because in the modern galaxy nothing was truly real until somebody had charged you for it twice.

For inspiration, the ship’s ancient memory banks produced the phrase, “I am now actually celibate, if you can believe that? Apollo looked startled, and then stopped believing it almost immediately, and spoke once more with the sound of”, which nobody understood but everyone pretended was profound. Cedric nodded as if he had just discovered philosophy inside a vending machine. Salomina stared at the readout with the expression of a woman who had once seduced a vacuum cleaner and therefore no longer trusted electrical appliances with smooth edges.

The first plan involved a letter from Shopkeepers Anonymous. The second plan involved pretending the first plan had never happened. The third plan, which Brian liked best, involved lifting something heavy, looking heroic, and hoping the universe mistook confidence for competence. Unfortunately the universe had met Brian before and was not easily fooled.

Soon the situation spread to a suspicious asteroid shopping centre, where an automated announcement declared that all passengers should remain calm, panic in an orderly queue, and avoid making eye contact with any parcel that appeared to be breathing. This advice was immediately ignored by everyone except the parcel, which seemed offended that nobody had asked about its feelings.

In the end, the crew solved the matter in the traditional Space 2047 manner: accidentally, noisily, and with paperwork still attached. Susan with the Viking helmet tripped over a letter from Shopkeepers Anonymous, a security droid with public-service issues shouted an apology at the wrong person, and the ship’s space horn went off with enough force to make a distant meteorite forget the second verse of a song it had been singing since Tuesday.

An Intergalactic Authority Gets Involved

The crew gathered in the control room, which had recently been cleaned by a robot that believed dust was a protected species. Susan with the Viking helmet proposed a sensible investigation. a security droid with public-service issues proposed shouting at the ceiling. Cedric suggested sending the problem an invoice, because in the modern galaxy nothing was truly real until somebody had charged you for it twice.

For inspiration, the ship’s ancient memory banks produced the phrase, “it almost immediately, and spoke once more with the sound of disbelief in his voice, “Oh, I don’t believe that Susan, how about we make love, just for”, which nobody understood but everyone pretended was profound. Cedric nodded as if he had just discovered philosophy inside a vending machine. Salomina stared at the readout with the expression of a woman who had once seduced a vacuum cleaner and therefore no longer trusted electrical appliances with smooth edges.

The first plan involved an inflatable space taxi dress. The second plan involved pretending the first plan had never happened. The third plan, which Brian liked best, involved lifting something heavy, looking heroic, and hoping the universe mistook confidence for competence. Unfortunately the universe had met Brian before and was not easily fooled.

Soon the situation spread to the galaxy Hooareu, where an automated announcement declared that all passengers should remain calm, panic in an orderly queue, and avoid making eye contact with any parcel that appeared to be breathing. This advice was immediately ignored by everyone except the parcel, which seemed offended that nobody had asked about its feelings.

In the end, the crew solved the matter in the traditional Space 2047 manner: accidentally, noisily, and with paperwork still attached. Susan with the Viking helmet tripped over an inflatable space taxi dress, a security droid with public-service issues shouted an apology at the wrong person, and the ship’s space horn went off with enough force to make a distant meteorite forget the second verse of a song it had been singing since Tuesday.

The Problem Becomes Larger Than the Ship

The crew gathered in the control room, which had recently been cleaned by a robot that believed dust was a protected species. Susan with the Viking helmet proposed a sensible investigation. a security droid with public-service issues proposed shouting at the ceiling. Salomina suggested sending the problem an invoice, because in the modern galaxy nothing was truly real until somebody had charged you for it twice.

For inspiration, the ship’s ancient memory banks produced the phrase, “don’t believe that Susan, how about we make love, just for old times’ sake?!” Susan shook her head, “No, Apollo, as hard as it is, I am actually”, which nobody understood but everyone pretended was profound. Cedric nodded as if he had just discovered philosophy inside a vending machine. Salomina stared at the readout with the expression of a woman who had once seduced a vacuum cleaner and therefore no longer trusted electrical appliances with smooth edges.

The first plan involved a tomato-shaped escape craft. The second plan involved pretending the first plan had never happened. The third plan, which Brian liked best, involved lifting something heavy, looking heroic, and hoping the universe mistook confidence for competence. Unfortunately the universe had met Brian before and was not easily fooled.

Soon the situation spread to the spaceship Are We There Yet?, where an automated announcement declared that all passengers should remain calm, panic in an orderly queue, and avoid making eye contact with any parcel that appeared to be breathing. This advice was immediately ignored by everyone except the parcel, which seemed offended that nobody had asked about its feelings.

In the end, the crew solved the matter in the traditional Space 2047 manner: accidentally, noisily, and with paperwork still attached. Susan with the Viking helmet tripped over a tomato-shaped escape craft, a security droid with public-service issues shouted an apology at the wrong person, and the ship’s space horn went off with enough force to make a distant meteorite forget the second verse of a song it had been singing since Tuesday.

A Terrible Plan Is Mistaken for Bravery

The crew gathered in the control room, which had recently been cleaned by a robot that believed dust was a protected species. Susan with the Viking helmet proposed a sensible investigation. a security droid with public-service issues proposed shouting at the ceiling. Karen Toni Loretta Bobbi Erasmus suggested sending the problem an invoice, because in the modern galaxy nothing was truly real until somebody had charged you for it twice.

For inspiration, the ship’s ancient memory banks produced the phrase, “head, “No, Apollo, as hard as it is, I am actually celibate now, and at last, I am sorry, but I am finally over you, and all I”, which nobody understood but everyone pretended was profound. Cedric nodded as if he had just discovered philosophy inside a vending machine. Salomina stared at the readout with the expression of a woman who had once seduced a vacuum cleaner and therefore no longer trusted electrical appliances with smooth edges.

The first plan involved a revisualizing device. The second plan involved pretending the first plan had never happened. The third plan, which Brian liked best, involved lifting something heavy, looking heroic, and hoping the universe mistook confidence for competence. Unfortunately the universe had met Brian before and was not easily fooled.

Soon the situation spread to planet Boring746759, where an automated announcement declared that all passengers should remain calm, panic in an orderly queue, and avoid making eye contact with any parcel that appeared to be breathing. This advice was immediately ignored by everyone except the parcel, which seemed offended that nobody had asked about its feelings.

In the end, the crew solved the matter in the traditional Space 2047 manner: accidentally, noisily, and with paperwork still attached. Susan with the Viking helmet tripped over a revisualizing device, a security droid with public-service issues shouted an apology at the wrong person, and the ship’s space horn went off with enough force to make a distant meteorite forget the second verse of a song it had been singing since Tuesday.

The Delivery and the Consequences

The crew gathered in the control room, which had recently been cleaned by a robot that believed dust was a protected species. Susan with the Viking helmet proposed a sensible investigation. a security droid with public-service issues proposed shouting at the ceiling. Father Alfonso Lonely suggested sending the problem an invoice, because in the modern galaxy nothing was truly real until somebody had charged you for it twice.

For inspiration, the ship’s ancient memory banks produced the phrase, “am sorry, but I am finally over you, and all I do these days is play bingo, and wear a blue rinse wig, and hang out in launderettes,”, which nobody understood but everyone pretended was profound. Cedric nodded as if he had just discovered philosophy inside a vending machine. Salomina stared at the readout with the expression of a woman who had once seduced a vacuum cleaner and therefore no longer trusted electrical appliances with smooth edges.

The first plan involved a chocolate bar with ideas above its station. The second plan involved pretending the first plan had never happened. The third plan, which Brian liked best, involved lifting something heavy, looking heroic, and hoping the universe mistook confidence for competence. Unfortunately the universe had met Brian before and was not easily fooled.

Soon the situation spread to a space motorway service station, where an automated announcement declared that all passengers should remain calm, panic in an orderly queue, and avoid making eye contact with any parcel that appeared to be breathing. This advice was immediately ignored by everyone except the parcel, which seemed offended that nobody had asked about its feelings.

In the end, the crew solved the matter in the traditional Space 2047 manner: accidentally, noisily, and with paperwork still attached. Susan with the Viking helmet tripped over a chocolate bar with ideas above its station, a security droid with public-service issues shouted an apology at the wrong person, and the ship’s space horn went off with enough force to make a distant meteorite forget the second verse of a song it had been singing since Tuesday.

And so the ship continued onwards, slightly damaged, morally uncertain, and almost certainly late, which was normal for the crew of Are We There Yet?.