Nicholas Crow - Button Down

The button that must never be pressed, Carl bumped. Chaos and panic ensued. The destruction that followed wrought terror on the otherwise humdrum of a day. Just that morning, Carl had awakened to begin the sixty-seventh occurrence of his 23.934 hour cycles that year. At approximately 5.47 hours, Carl opened the valve marked Magma to heat his caffeinated morning nickel. Stepping into his steam bath, he savored the delicious aroma of his molten morning pickup. Finished with his regular washing, he toweled his leathery green skin dry and dressed in his typical red cap and pleated trousers. The unusual garb left the glowing yellow spots that covered his chest exposed; allowing his polka-dotted skin to illuminate the darkened room.

He snatched up his piping hot cup. With a long, sharp finger nail, he scratched at the walls to sprinkle iron filings over the frothy beverage. Today, after all, was the three hundred and seventy-third anniversary of his appointment to Terra37 by the Sustainable Interplanetary Maintenance Commission. Carl deserved an extra treat.

He took a sip as he stepped into the Control Center. With a sigh, Carl took a seat and looked around at the many flashing lights and screens that surrounded him. This was the life. Carl could not think of any place he would rather be. From his office at the center of Terra37, he could look out and see all that happened on the surface above.

A little red light flashed in the corner of Monitor #87. The atmosphere in Sector 298 was growing too hot. Glancing to the lower quadrant of the screen, Carl knew that the high pressure system in Sector 297 would soon cause a violent storm. Twelve inch long fingers stretched across the keyboard. Rapid typing was followed by the disappearance of the alert siren as the climate control returned to stable levels.

Another untimely weather disaster averted, Carls eyes turned to view the entirety of his office space. The numerous screens rose to form a dome above his head. The massive keyboard stretched in a semicircle around the room. The buttons flashed in a multitude of colors ranging from hues of refreshing green and blue to brilliant orange and violet. A small empty space at the edge of the keyboard separated the colorful control panel from the ominous button at the furthest most end of Carls desk.

A glowing, big red button shone in its solitary space. Set out of reach of his flexible arms, Carl rarely thought of the burning red button. He really did not know why it had ever been created, but it was a device Carl would never need to use.

His eyes turned back to the screens, and the cup again rose towards his large, purple lips. Carl yelped as the liquid metal spilled onto his pleated trousers. His hand swept across the desk, sending the spilled cup skittering to the opposite end of the shiny, button-covered board. Swatting at the burning stain, he hopped up and down, circling the small room in a strange and funny dance. His panic over the hot drink distracted him from the still rolling cup. Hot nickel had splashed over the monitors and was slowly seeping between the flickering buttons. The cup, however, rolled on; slowly, across the empty area of the desk. It steadily approached the lone, big red button.

Had Carl paid attention, he would not have cared if the hot metal beverage burned straight through his trousers. Instead, he would have dashed for the cup. If he had, the world might have gone on as any other day. But Carl did not see the cup, and Terra37 would never be the same.

The cup reached the glowing red button. It barely bumped it. In truth, you could say it hardly touched it, but the big red button activated. Immediately, alarms went off, lights started flashing, and every screen showed the same, terrifying warning: Gravity - Disabled. At the same time, three thousand nine hundred and fifty-eight miles above, every human on Terra37 began drifting into wild, open space.