Luckily for the pair of them, they were constantly overlooked by the ships computer, one of the earlier experiments into artificial stupidity. Having had its mind modelled on a former US president, NASA decided that 220 miles into space, surrounded by vacuum, was the least embarrassing place for it. Also on board were various scientists and astronautical types, but it was rare that they would encroach upon the animals' capsule. Mainly due to the fact that most scientists get uneasy in the presence of paraplegic parrots, and cynical fish. It's just a science thing.
Leonard was sleeping, a dangerous occupation when you are floating all the time. He had drifted head-first between two storage consoles, gently jamming himself in. Alex, who unfortunately never slept, was enjoying this tremendously. In fact there had been a dodgy moment earlier where he had been laughing so hard that part of his water bubble split away, leaving him in a substantially reduced globule of liquid. This event certainly stemmed the laughter as he panicked and set off to chase down the missing water. Sudden acceleration was a tricky state of affairs for Alex. To move anywhere, he had to get the spheroid of water spinning, by swimming to the edge of the liquid and swimming like buggery in the direction he wished the ball to travel. The problem is that it needs to be spinning pretty quick to achieve only slow horizontal movement. Alex, therefore, had to be swimming at a rate of knots, just to traverse the room. Stopping had its own issues, as he certainly could not risk bumping into the walls, dispersing his wet globular home throughout the room. On balance, most people would be cynical if they were an insomniac constantly swimming just to keep themselves alive.
After reclaiming his errant water, Alex thought it would be a good idea to wake Leonard an see what he had to say regarding his current situation. The easiest way to wake him would be to get the computer to shout his name a couple of times, or maybe even loudly play a sample of a tiger roaring. On balance, the tiger roar seemed like a much more satisfying option.
"Computer, search sample database for sound bite of pissed off, hungry Bengal tiger. With piles, for preference."
"Sure thang", drawled the computer's synthesised voice. "Results as follows: I have one sample of a hungry Bengal tiger, one sample of a pissed off Siberian, one sample of a tabby cat named Tyson who is both pissed off and hungry, and one sample of a cockney jazz singer with haemorrhoids."
"Okay", responded Alex after a little pause for reflection, "can you mix all samples together and play them over each other?"
"No problem, boss."
There was near silence in the room, only the life support fans gently whirring. The quiet shifted up a gear to what is known as an embarrassing silence. Alex yet again cursed his life and the entire state of affairs aboard this hulk.
"Computer, can you play those samples now, please."
"Huh? Oh, sure, I guess so." The computer gave the electronic equivalent of a smirk, "I should have guessed that's what you meant."
There was a sudden ambient hiss as the speaker stack came online, then the sample overlay played. The noise was greater than the sum of its parts, certainly, but that can be the only positive thing to be said about it. The hungry Bengal tiger's roar was lacking in feeling, but was neatly counterpointed by the sound of a house cat locked in a metal dustbin. The pissed off Siberian was a man swearing in Russian about the state of the economy, which nicely juxtaposed a south London accent muttering darkly about his chalfonts.
