Aliens and Apple Crumble

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Alena kept up the pace with several other rushing city civilians. Having lived in such an environment all her life, she was more than just used to it, she blended in a place that others might think to be 'too hectic', though Alena always thought that whoever complained about probably just grew up in the country, didn't they ever read the story about a country mouse and a city mouse?

As Alena continued to walk, the crowds were beginning to thin until there were barely any at all, just a few people walking on the pavement. Even Alena slowed down as she approached her stand, 'The Mini Convenience Store', as it was proudly called on the yellow banner in black letters. She unlocked it and went behind it, being here brought back memories, it always did. She could remember 'Uncle DeJanole' whenever she came in here, his calm attitude would seem like a stark contrast to her usual rushing one, and they did conflict once and awhile. But eventually, she came to see that maybe it was worth it to smell the flowers once in awhile, just as long as it was on your lunch break. He became like family to her, a lot closer than her own, to the point of where she replaced her last name with his... she didn't hate her family, really, it was just that they were more like acquaintances, maybe not even that now, considering how long it's been since she saw them all.

She stretched, fixed herself a smoothie (since they were technically hers, after all), got out a recent newspaper, and began reading with her head leaning on her left hand, assuming her usual position as she waited for customers. She read about a scandal, and with the same guy too! You'd think that he'd from the first time...
 
"Excellent, I didn't crash. I love it when I do that."
After running the usual system checks and diagnostics on any anomalies, the man known vaguely as Andrew Baker hopped from his ship, which had been parked somewhere he was sure nobody would pay it any mind - in the middle of some inconspicuous field, with the camouflage activated to deter prying eyes. Hopefully, nobody would notice that he had parked it there, as most would be confused by a fighter jet suddenly disappearing, and its inhabitant hopping out as though it was routine procedure (even though it was). The male alien - though his real gender and actual appearance were still highly debatable - strolled casually to the city, having not parked a considerable distance from civilisation, and upon entering, remembered the exact reason he had stopped on Earth in the first place.

Apples.

He had forgotten to pack more of the most important ingredient in an apple crumble. He cursed himself for such idiocy, but upon the sight of a stand bearing the name 'The Mini Convenience Store,' his mood was lifted slightly, hoping that they sold apples, at a price he could afford without groaning as he paid.
"Hello," he said, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he said it, "I'm just here for some apples. Do you sell apples? At this point I'm willing to have any sort of fruit. Except for-"
Andrew would have rambled further, except what appeared to be a distinctive 'ding' noise sounded. To most, it would seem like a text alert. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary, until you considered Andrew did not use mobile phones. Instead, he pulled out what appeared to be a battered, slightly outdated model of the Nokia E-Series, and began waving it around a bit, hearing it 'ding' once every so often.
"It's my spacey-wacey detector," he explained, "It goes ding when there's stuff."
 
Alena looked up at the man that greeted her, rambling on about wanting apples, "Hm. Yeah. Maybe. I'll see if I got 'um." she said, closing her magazine and setting her smoothie aside to see if she had any apples, or any sort of fruit in general. The only stock that seemed to be consistent here was the newspapers, smoothies, and the milk, everything else sort of just changed by the week.

After checking one spot for any sign of fruit, she looked back at him to see that he waving what looked to be a cell phone, like it came out of the 'Nokia E-Series' as she recalled, and the stranger claimed it to be a 'spacey-wacey detector' that 'went ding when there's stuff'. "... Right." she said, and then ducked down to see if there might be any fruit stuffed below. She always figured that she'd get some sort of nutty person, if anything she had her fair share of eccentrics come down to her stand. He seemed harmless enough, but she always had her taser just in case.

Popping back up, she said, "Sorry, but I can't seem to find any of the apples that ya' lookin' for. Have a whole box of oranges though."
 
"Oranges? Are you insane?"
Andrew looked to Alena as if she were insane - as if she had suggested eating her first born child. If there was one thing he hated, it was oranges - he despised them with every fiber of his being. The very thought of their stringy fibres, their sour taste, their awkward-to-peel skin... It made his skin crawl and his stomach turn. "Oranges are evil. Bad bad oranges."
David, seeming thoroughly disgusted at being offered the citrus, raised an eyebrow as soon as his "spacey-wacey detector" seemed to hit something - made evident by the intense and repetitive dings sounding from the speaker on the device. As it happened, the item causing such a reaction seemed to be down a grate leading into the sewage works underneath - not the most ideal place to be, but Baker had sensed something, nd the detector had only confirmed his fears. He prayed that it was just another false alarm, and that it was only a Blatsignarian Waste Crab that'd fallen from a shipment crate, and had decided to make a home in the sewers beneath. After, shoving the detector into his coat's pocket, and pulling out his "car key," he attempted to lift the grate - to no avail, one might add. As such, he pointed his key at the grate's edges, and held own the topmost button, causing it to emit a high-pitched buzzing noise, and also causing the grate to loosen. Andrew hopped down, and the first thing he commented on was not what his soniccing had disrupted the camoflgue of, but rather, the alien's breath after it roared at him.
"Jesus Christ, what did you eat?! It smells like you ate fermented Slagnorkan Antaroths, mixed in with... Off milk?"
Another roar sounded. "Don't worry, I'll be done in a minute! Just sorting out this... What are you again?"
It didn't particularly matter what it was, when a fist the size of a melon burst into the surface, and returned to beneath it.
 
Of all the reactions that Alena had gotten, this one surprised her the most. He looked at her as if she was the one in the coo-coo's nest. And why Oranges? She could understand bananas, those things were too inconvenient with when you had to eat them, but oranges? They even had ones that were easy to peel, "Alright, alright, I get it. Oranges, the spawn of the devil. But anyways, I might have something else..." she said, turning around to grab an apple-related wrapped pastry, but when she turned around, he was near some grate, his 'spacey-wacey detector' making a noise that she would have found cheese-grater annoying if not for the fact that she was used to those sort of things.

She had little to no idea of what he was even doing, and no clue of what was really going on. She was tempted to stop him, since as entertaining as it was to watch these sort of people, she'd feel kind of bad if he actually got hurt in his delusion. She stepped out of her stand, tempted to go down after him- at least until she heard a roar. She looked around, no, the lions hadn't escaped, if anything it sounded like it came from... down there.

Another roar erupted, and quite frankly, she wasn't sure about if she really wanted to test her disbelief. If something was roaring in the sewers, it was probably better to leave it alone. Immediately. She slowly backed up towards her stand, when suddenly a huge, abnormally large burst through, and Alena paused for a moment. Now that she thought about it, maybe her milk was really off today, it sort of tasted strange. And maybe this (literal) apple fanboy had some too.
 
It was at this point that Andrew realised quite what he was dealing with. He recalled that it was a Slandirian Muck-Dwelling Slod, a species known for its aggression, and its love of foul smells. Able grow several metres tall, its species were commonly a shade of dark grey, or in rare cases, light green. However, they all shared one common characteristic - their insane build. Their muscles, for whatever perverse reason nature had deemed suitable, had been developed to be as thick as tree trunks, capable of bursting through reinforced steel like it was paper. Though usually placid, Slods of its kind hate it when they're in cramped spaces - and though the one in question was young, it only barely fit in the sewage works. And having its camouflage removed really didn't help matters. Baker could not defeat the beast, as it were - he refused to carry any sort of conventional weaponry upon him. However, he did know how to at lest incapacitate it for a while, allowing authorities to extract it before anybody got hurt.
"I need something smelly, like a can of deodorant. Soap'll do, but the stronger the better!" came the call from below, the voice of a traveller ringing out as he asked for assistance. Despite the amount of strange items carried on his being, deodorant was not one of those things - that was back in the ship.
 
Was he asking her? Well actually, yeah, he had to be asking her because she seemed to be the only one around, which was either a blessing because she wouldn't look crazy to others, or a curse because no one else would believe that something in sewers burst it's humongous fist through unless they saw it themselves.

"Deodorant. Got it." she said, making her decision as she rushed back to her stand, frantically looking around for some sort of nice smelling stuff, since she assumed that was what he needed. Eventually she began pulling out items, leaving her stand in a bit of a mess, "Come on, come on! Last week I couldn't get rid of the stuff, now where is it?!" she mumbled to herself. Pulling out several boxes and setting them aside, she finally came upon a box of perfume. Seeing as how the deodorant apparently grew legs and ran away, this would have to do. Grabbing the box, she ran back outside, "Sorry to say that I seem to be out deodorant and soap. Have a whole box of perfume though." she said, hoping that perfume wasn't the spawn of the devil too. Grabbing a bottle, she kneeled, reaching down the hole so that he could grab it. It might not seem like a smart decision to stick your arm down when there's god-knows-what below, but as Uncle DeJanole had always said, you never wanted damage whatever your selling, especially if the customer needed it badly. Besides, she had two arms anyways.
 
Andrew shrugged, and took the bottle from Alena, weighing it in his hands. The bottle seemed fragile enough, and the spray seemed to work just fine as well. Perfect for what he planned to use it for."
"Remind me to pay you back when I'm not warding off a sewer monster!" he shouted, deftly ducking below another straight directed at him, that would otherwise have (literally) knocked his head off. It took a little effort, but upon working his way to as close to the beast as he could, he sprayed the perfume in the Slod's face, causing a pained roar to erupt from its mouth, filling the air with a stench that would cause nose hairs to shoot themselves if at ll capable. Now with the creature caught off-guard, the container was uncapped, and the liquid contents thrown into the nostrils of the Slod. It was common knowledge among travellers, that fighting a Muck-Dwelling Slod head-on was akin to suicide. However, an extremely easy and effective way to knock it out was to expose its nostrils directly to a scent contrasting greatly with its surroundings. The smell would have been drowned out if just sprayed on its face - it needed to be directly on or in the nostrils. After a few moments of stumbling, the enemy ceased to continue any notable activity, and fell unconscious on the floor.
After which, Andrew popped his head above where the grate used to be, and spoke as if nothing had happened at all.
"Right, how much for that and a can of air freshener?"
 
As soon as he grabbed the perfume, she retracted her arm, backing away from the hole. Shouldn't she be running away? Move out of her apartment and hightailing it out of the city? Despite what she contemplated, she stayed where she was. He might need another bottle of perfume anyways, and how would he pay if she wasn't here?

She wasn't sure about what was going on down there (and she wasn't going to peek. She wasn't as willing to risk losing one of her eyes), but from that roar that sounded like he had just stabbed it, whatever he was doing must have been working- and dear lord, what was that stench?! It... it smelt like... like... something indescribable from here, like someone just punch her sense of smell several times, it even affected her taste a bit. She had to cover her nose with her scarf, in hopes that it might help.

She felt some shaking, followed by even more shaking that made the contents of her store rumble. She paused for a moment, still sort of taking everything in. She finally cleared her voice, a bit surprised by how he just acted like this was a part of his daily business... was this sort of thing a part of his daily business? "That'll be 5 for the perfume, and 2.99 for the air freshener. Plus tax." she said through her scarf. Even if it was desperately needed now, she wasn't about to let any business go.
 
"PLUS tax? They still have that here? Oh well, I guess business is business. Besides, you've earned it, given that a Muck-Dwelling Slod's just popped up out of nowhere, filled the air with an indescribable stench, and almost killed a man."
A tenner was fished out of the pocket of Andrew's trench coat, which was then passed on to Alena - after he had hauled his own smelly carcass from the sewers, of course. After brushing God-knows-what from his clothing, he coughed a little, and straightened himself up. "Keep the change. You deserve it, if anything. Now, let me tell you something. In about ten of your Earth minutes, the regulative authorities for this quadrant will arrive, and will wipe your memory of this event. It's a completely harmless process... Apart from the time that Venusian's head exploded because the setting on the wiper was too high. And that time that Martian ended up having a fit and dying. I used to have drinks with him, you know. Lovely chap. Oh, am I rambling? Do forgive me. I tend to do it when I actually get to speak with someone, travelling for so long does that to you. Well, I'm off. Remember - don't try and resist. You'll only get... Well, rough treatment, shall we say."
Andrew turned around, and waved goodbye, sauntering casually off. He didn't mention the part about the authorities arriving so soon because they actually still wanted to interrogate him - few people would believe what he got up to.
 
Alena smiled, taking the tenner from him, "Nice doing business with ya'." she said. Even if it was rather... unusual today, and not just because milk wasn't needed in an emergency for once, that was what the stand was there for; the latest news, smoothie cravings, and emergencies (mainly involving milk).

She looked wide eyed at him at the news of ' regulative authorities' coming over and wiping her brain, mainly because of what he told of some of the accidents with them. By now she could guess that his sort of 'travelling' didn't just mean going around and stamping your passport.

"Wait." she said, quickly walking towards him and grabbing his coat, "There anyway that I can prevent those authorities from frying my brain? 'Cause I don't want any brain damage. Besides, who around here would possibly believe me besides the nutties, ya know?" she said, though she also followed after because she was intrigued. Her curiosity had been piqued, it wasn't every day that you met an intergalactic traveler, and on what day would she meet him again?
 
Andrew paused for a minute, remembering everything he'd seen, done, and had done to him.. He remembered the pain, the danger, and the hatred. He remembered what made it so fun, though - the thrills, the laughs, the sheer amount of fascinating things you'd never let your eyes believe. He had only one idea, and it was a hare-brained one at best. But, damn him if he didn't want it to go ahead.
"I suppose you could come with me," he began, "But if you do, I should warn you, you'll see all sorts of things. Ghosts from the past, aliens from the future, the day a planet dies in a ball of flame. It won't be quiet, it won't be safe, and it won't be calm. But I'll tell you what it will be - a trip of a life time."
Andrew turned his head to Alena, smirking as he did so - he'd had many companions, and while they never stuck around, he had treated each and every single one of them to the same thing. And while they had all braced themselves, nothing really prepared them for what he could give them.
 
Come with him? Just what was getting into? He did explain that, or at least part of it, and part of her said not too. It'd be much safer to just stay in her little stand, and she had always been happy like that, hadn't she?

The reason why Jovey DeJanole left his stand was because he said that things were getting much too familiar too him, days melted into each other, too comfortable... it might have also been because he saved enough to retire, but still, part of that had a point. It was sort of hard to think of leaving that stand, there were so many memories in that, and what might happen to it while she was gone? She swore she'd personally beat any punks that tried to vandalize it. Looking back at him, and then the stand again, she said, "Wait here."

Quickly running to her stand, she went and got a newspaper, a carton of milk, and some cash from the register before walking out with a sign. Dusting it off, she put it in front of the stand after she locked it up. In big, black letters on a yellow background it said 'ON HIATUS'. The products inside might spoil, but at the moment, she had far more important things to worry about, like going on adventures with an intergalactic stranger. ... Maybe more of DeJanole rubbed off on her than she thought.

Running back to him with the items in hand, she said, "Alright, where to? Don't have all day." she said, since they probably didn't if what he said about regulative authorities was true.
 
"You'd best be prepared for a lot more running than just to the ship. Because, I assure, I've cheesed off a fair few planets in my time, and they'd probably vaporise me on sight."
Turning, with his coat billowing as a result, Andrew jogged along the street, hoping his new companion would follow. He figured they had about ten minutes before their respective energy signatures were detected, and they would be pursued. However, if they got out of the quadrant in time, then it would no longer be the business of that area's authorities, and the adventures could truly begin. With the wind in his face and the taste of freedom on his tongue, the four-hundred and twenty-four-year-old kept his pace, knowing that someone could now see him for who he was, again.
A madman in a plane.

It took all but a minute or three to reach the vehicle - which, as it happened, had been uncloaked moments earlier, and was now standing in the middle of the field, doing nothing in particular.
"Now this," he began, "Is my pride and joy, the HMS ITAS-V. That's short for Hyper-Mega Speed Interplanetary Transport and Storage Vehicle. Let me show you the inside."
After clambering into the cockpit, Andrew pointed his key behind him, prompting a short-lived, emerald glow. Behind the pilot's seat, there was no longer the normal sight you would see in such a vehicle. No - there was a trap door. Through the trap door, there would be a flight of well-lit steps. And down those, would be the transport and storage part of the vehicle - a large, metal box, littered with all sorts of furniture, the furniture designed for storage housing all sorts of things not meant to fit in there, from jars of thumbs in green jelly, to a poorly-made bunny suit. Only the fridge housed what it should - food. And some drinks, most of which were in strangely-shaped containers, labelled in an alien dialect. The area itself would be the size of a medium-sized bungalow - considering that the outside looked like a fighter jet, it would not be hard to surprise most people with it. "Now, go down the trap door and make yourself comfortable while I strap myself in. I'll be able to hear you through the intercom. If you need anything to eat or drink, check the fridge. Just don't touch the one with the cubey-looking thing, I'm letting that mature so I can save it for something special."
 
Swiftly following him, Alena couldn't help but question how many planets a man his age could possible 'cheese off', so to speak, then again, he probably wasn't as old as he looked, just how old was he anyways? Maybe he wasn't as human as he appeared either. Just what was he? Or maybe, just maybe, he was a nut and some of his insanity was starting to get to her.

He lead her to a field, eventually coming to a jet, a fighter jet specifically, but she wasn't sure of what model it was (and apparently it was really a Hyper-Mega Speed Interplanetary Transport and Storage Vehicle). She guessed it was some sort of ship, which was sort of cool, it'd sort of be like in the movies, traveling in... the trap door? What? And she was supposed to go down it, make herself comfortable, get something from the fridge...? Dear lord, she was going to travel with a nutso with a fighter jet, no, an intergalactic Nutso with a HMS ITAS-V. She looked behind her, wondering if she should escape before it was too late, but convinced herself to get in anyways, opening the door to reveal stairs. In a fighter jet, or rather, something that looked like one. Wouldn't they just lead to...? Items in tow, she went down the steps, finding herself in a large space filled with stuff that shouldn't have been able to fit, this large space shouldn't have been able to fit, it was like a house inside of a plane.

Looking around her, she found various pieces of furniture, a bunny suit that somehow beat her 5th grade Halloween costume in how bad it was, a jar of thumbs in green jelly... That was just plane creepy. Finding the fridge, which seemed to be one of the only relatively normal thing in this space, she opened it up, figuring that she might as well put her milk inside, only to be met with even more weird containers with even weirder symbols labeling them, and she didn't want to risk drinking one. Putting the milk on one of the shelves, she found herself looking at the cubey-looking thing, not because she wanted to touch it, but rather because she was questioning herself, Alena DeJanole, just what the hell have you gotten yourself into?
 
"People have always said it's bigger on the inside," Andrew called to Alena, his voice sounding over the intercom, "But it's not. Interestingly, it's actually smaller on the outside. That's a totally different dimension you're in, right now. And that trap door's a gateway into."
Pre-flight checks had to be done before every take-off. Most of the time, there was nothing wrong, and most of the remaining times, the problem was small enough to be considered negligible. However, Andrew meticulously ran the checks without fail, knowing it would save his life one day. One the one occasion somebody planted a bomb in his ship, it did save his life. He made sure that person got their just deserts - when they found the perpetrator, he was in pieces. In the most literal sense possible.
I never did get the blood out of that shirt.
The checks, with the updated software installed, took no longer than half minute. When the computer gave him the all-clear, Andrew finally strapped himself in, and flicked the appropriate switches. The ever-familiar sound of the solar engine starting up sounded, a strange mix between a mechanical whirr, and a grinding noise. He hadn't worked out what caused it, and nor did he care. As far as he was concerned, that showed the engine was in good shape. It hadn't failed him yet, and nobody had found anything wrong with it. Regardless, once in a while, he did go to check the engine room on his own, to see if he could see anything himself - after all, computer diagnostics can only detect so much.
"Right then," he said cheerily, an air of mischief and vague debonair lingering on his voice, "All of the universe, every planet there is and ever was, and armour plating that cn shrig off a supernova. Where do you want to start? Because our next stop... Is everywhere."
And, with a flick of the throttle, the engines flared, and at roughly the speed of light, the transport shot into the cosmos, dodging any obstacles with an expertly-tuned autopilot.

Strangely enough, despite the erratic motions displayed on the monitor, the interior seemed to remain perfectly still. Yet another dimension manipulation trick, the mysteries of which had not been revealed to anyone but the makers - mostly because the scientists who made it were killed to keep them quiet.
 
His voice snapped Alena back to reality, at least what reality was at the present moment. The explanation of this being some other dimension sort of made sense, more sense than how the heck this space could fit in there. But then would it be possible to trap someone in here by closing that gateway or something? She shook her head, not wanting to go over anymore fridge horror as she closed the fridge door. She was almost startled by some sort of loud whirring-grinding noise, but quickly told herself that it must have been the engine, meaning that by now it was too late to act on any second thoughts.

Where to? Quite frankly, she wasn't sure, since she wasn't exactly an astronomer, and the only planets she knew were the most basic ones of Mars, Saturn, what have you, and she was sure that those might not be inhabitable- but he had mentioned martians, as she recalled in his rambling. Still, he'd probably find such planets to be boring with where he's been. Wandering over to a random table, she saw a large collection of hats, and now that she noticed, they seemed to be everywhere. Seeing as how she left all her caps at home, she should probably ask to borrow one sometime. She held one of the hats in her hand, trying to think of an answer and contemplating if she should just say a random, nonsensical word and hope that it might be a planet. Wait, there seemed to be something under all the hats, some sort of layout.

Clearing the hats, she found a map with various shapes and scribbles that were apparently supposed to represent planets, stars, nebulas, portals... It might as well have come out of a child's imagination, or even from the imagination of the man driving this ship. On second thought, she wasn't quite sure about if she really trusted him with it. Much like how Uncle DeJanole chose his retirement location, she closed her eyes and put her finger on a random spot on the map, opening them to find that her finger was on a purplish-blue oval named 'Tah'Cleineish'.

"How about... Tah'Cleaneish. Or Tah'Clennish. Something like that." Alena said, unsure of how to pronounce the name.
 
"You serious? You want to go there? My. you are feeling adventurous today, aren't you? Or is it night? I don't know, depends on where we are. Pretty hard to say, when you're travelling at the speed of light."
The co-ordinates were typed into the on-board computer, prompting the programming to send the data to the autopilot. After the initial processing, the computerised AI spoke, acknowledging the fact that a destination had been set. To be fair, it worked in Andrew's advantage - few would expect that he'd go there, least of all the authorities that knew nothing about him as a person. Though the ship turned quite abruptly, it would have been hard to notice - after all, the storage area was an entirely different dimension. However, the trap door was not the only way in and out of it. There was n emergency escape pod, that would be able to launch itself into the original dimension, in the event of an emergency. However, due to the fact that a huge assortment of miscellaneous tat cluttered the area, a fire exit sign was not the best choice to mark the emergency exit. Added to the fact that a wardrobe filled with at least forty different board games obstructed the door, one would not be blamed for thinking it was just another part of the scenery.
"Oh, that's right, I never introduced myself, did I? How rude of me. I'm Andrew Baker. At least, that's my name in English. If I told you my name in my native tongue, we'd be here all day trying to get you to hear it right. Like how we can't comprehend higher dimensions, you wouldn't be able to comprehend the sounds I was making to pronounce my name correctly in my own language.
 
The speed of light? That's how fast they were going? In this space, she barely felt any sort of motion other than a few subtle vibrations that showed that was, indeed, moving, away from her home, from earth, maybe even her dimension. And of all the locations that she had to have randomly picked, she had to pick the one that the intergalactic traveler questioned her for. She considered choosing another, less-life threatening planet, but considering her knowledge, or rather lack there of, they could be here all day going through planet names... or night. Then again, she did have the gall to come with him in the first place, fully knowing (and having yet to see) the danger that came with it.

Oh, introductions. In the mist of everything else, she sort of forgot about those, "Name's Alena, Alena DeJanole." she said, not mentioning her actual last name because she figured that it wasn't that important, "And how adventurous am I for pickin' this Tah'Clenneish planet?"
 
"Well, my dear, put it like this. Have you ever tried snowboarding down an erupting volcano? It's one for the thrill seekers, you know. Draws in a huge number of tourists, mind, so you don't have to worry about health and safety and all that mumbo-jumbo. All you have to do is worry about the lava shrimps. Lovely when they're cooked right, but they taste like a pile of raw sewage if you're even a degree out. They even have a small dojo somewhere in one of its eighty-three moons that trains chefs there to be elite shrimp cookers. Falligrey, if memory serves."
Andrew began sipping on a bottle of apple juice he had brought into the cockpit, something he always had by the seat. To him, apples were like towels - highly versatile, and a travelling staple if one is to be zipping through the known and unknown universe on a regular basis. His copy of 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' on the shelf in the corner had repeatedly stated that towels were essential for any self-respecting traveller. He had tried to say the same about apple, but no response had been received. He reasoned that they were edible raw, cooked, made a good item for distractions, could be juiced for something to drink, and even used to plug up small holes in the event of an emergency. Something told him his little display pad wouldn't be updated any time soon. The AI's computerised voice warned him not to use liquids near the console. He told it to shut up, and reminded it that he had put in a liquid disperser in the panel, which was essentially an umbrella for it - only it was an invisible field around the controls, that dispersed liquids not contained in a secure container within range, and re-arranged the atoms a safe distance from it.
 
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