The mess hall was a mess. That’s what Sergeant Messinger thought when he walked in. He was in a state of a complete stream of consciousness and nothing would let him slow down, particularly the messy mess hall. I am, after all, just one of the guys, he thought weirdly to no one in particular. His thoughts were loud lately and he fought to control them. Sometimes his dreams came alive and that’s when he really was in trouble.

Not today though. His dreams were quiet and structured, like any good soldier’s. He was not a soldier though so the previous sentence had no effect on his demeanor, unlike the mess hall which was a MESS.

“Captain,” greeted the other sergeant who had materialized next to Messinger in a hazy blue shroud of greenish yellows. This sergeant had no form. It was crazy.

“Not a captain, Sergeant,” retorted Messinger in a playful manner. This was a game they played. They had to play it everyday or they would have some trouble from higher up in the ranks. The last man who refused to play had been incinerated. Sad story. We don’t discuss it anymore.

“True, true.” The other sergeant nodded what should have been his head but was instead not a head. The colorful swirling mess of light had not taken form yet, and would continue not to.

“What’s with the mess hall?” inquired Messinger. This was not a part of the game and he actually was interested in the state of the hall. He ran his thick fingers through thicker hair, pleased with the way it felt and secretly deciding right then and there he would grow it out someday just to feel the wind blowing through it. These dreams would remain a fantasy because of the strict wind regulations imposed on the Station. Wind was banned.

“Not sure,” replied the other man of light.

“Let’s get this cleaned up.”

There was a silence then, just the way Messinger liked it.