The large ship floated in the middle of space, carrying thousands of humans who had made the ship their home.
Wiliam was amongst them. He frowned at the device being placed on his desk. He sighed and began to open the device up with tools. He stared at the device with dull eyes and tinkered with it.
'This isn't what I wanted...' He muttered.
'What was that, boss?' The man sitting at a desk a couple meters away asked.
'Nothing, nothing. Just wondering how somebody could've broken this radio...' He began to mess with the wires in the radio, wrapping some that had been cut together once again.
He sighed, pressing a button on the top of the radio and allowing a voice of a man to come through- the daily reports.
'Done,' He placed the radio down and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk. He stared up at the grey, metal ceiling, knowing that his life could've been different.
He stood up, clenching his fist and slamming it down on the table.
'Dammit...' He growled, his fist slightly sore from the bang on the table.
'Boss, you can take the rest of the day off if you want. I can deal with the rest of the repairs,' The man suggested.
'Thanks, Damien. I think I need to clear my head,'
He wondered out of the building and into the street. A couple people walked on the other side of the street, chuckling, when one suddenly turned to him.
'Hey, isn't that Michael's son?' The man said.
'Michael? The famous pilot?' Another one asked.
'Yeah, that's his son,' Another spoke.
'Apparently he's working as a communications officer. What a lame job for the son of a pilot. Oh well, I guess not everyone is born with natural talent like me,' The group of three men walked on.
He was trying his hardest. But he just doesn't have the talent like his father does...
◈◈◈
William sat in the small room, pencil in his hand and paper in front of him filled with questions. The voice spoke through the speakers.
'All examinees may begin.'
He began to write down the answers. He smiled whilst answering the first couple, breezing through them, when suddenly he frowned.
'Huh... We weren't taught this...' He tapped his pencil against the table, furrowing his brows.
He wrote down an answer and moved on, but as he went it got more difficult.
'The exam is over, please hand your paper in at reception on your way out,' The voice spoke.
He clenched his fist, eyes wide at the half filled out sheet. He stood, walking into the corridor and sweating slightly.
He handed it in, exiting the building and making his way home. Surely he did alright? And so he waited. And waited. And waited. Until finally the letter was delivered through his front door and he rushed to it, ripping the envelope apart and reading the results of the exam.
〈Sorry, but you have not passed the exam. Your exam's results are on the next page. You marked 24/100.〉
His stomach dropped and he collapsed onto the chair in the dining room. He shut his eyes momentarily before opening them again, staring at the results.
〈You have not qualified for the second exam. Thank you for trying. 〉