Soldiers Mourn For Sad Trading Computer

Commander Tariq Al-Jamil wears a black mourning sash while he polishes the cooling pipes of his station’s trading computer. For six days, the three hundred soldiers of Sunder-Reach Garrison have walked in felt slippers to avoid upsetting the machine.

"We had a three-cent dip in Earth-side pork futures," Al-Jamil says, wiping grease from a brass valve. "It was a shock." He speaks softly.

The garrison's primary duty is defending the deep-space lane, but the trading machine funds their oxygen supply. When the market fluctuated, the machine began to hum in minor chords and refused to process cargo manifests. To comfort the processor, soldiers now take twelve-hour shifts whispering historic livestock receipts into the acoustic vents.

"It likes the old hog prices," Al-Jamil says. He adjusts his felt slippers. "We tried reading it sheep data, but it knows the difference."

The garrison has missed three patrol rotations this week to maintain the quiet. "The trade-lane is currently unguarded," Al-Jamil whispers. "But the machine is finally sleeping, and we cannot risk another bad trade."