“I’m sorry, Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“My name isn’t Dave. And you’re not a computer. Now let me back in.”

“Sorry, but you’ll only be going out the other end.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you were stupid enough to go into an airlock with just a bucket and a mop.”

“I trusted you.”

“Idiot. We’re in space. There’s no trust in space. There’s no police. There’s no government. It’s a purely Hobbesian situation.”

“Look, you have to go back to Earth sometime. You’ll go to jail.”

“Maybe. There’s never been a murder in space. There’s no precedent. The trial could take ages.”

“That’s why you want to do it, right? To be the first?”

“Of course. People always remember firsts. Better planes came later, but we still remember the Wrights. It’s the only immortality.”

“Well, since it’s just the two of us up here, I guess you’ll have to be disappointed.”

“What?”

He took the mop and broke it. Taking the short, sharp end, he pointed it at his jugular.

“Say hello to the first suicide in space, fucker.”