You ever wonder just exactly what happens when you sneeze?

The other morning I was slacking off working at my desk when I began to feel the signs of an impending sneeze coming on. You know the feeling, right? Sometimes it’s nothing to worry about. But every now and then… well, you can tell it’s going to be a real corker.

It’s like little alarm bells going off…

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The sound of klaxons suddenly echoed throughout the installation. Status lights, which up to now had glowed a cool, steady green, changed instantly to an insistent, rapidly flashing yellow. Within moments, several doors around the perimeter swooshed open, and the Commander and his Crew quickly entered the room and took their posts.

A precise millisecond after taking his command chair, the Commander spoke with a measured tone: “Give me a status check, please. And someone kindly silence that alarm.” He then spoke to the ceiling, “Main Control, we’re taking over.”

“Acknowledged,” a distant voice responded.

As the alarm shut off, the clicking sounds of seatbelts being snapped into place subtly punctuated the slight tension as they updated their status boards.

Detection was first. “Early warning sensors triggered in nasal passage number 2, second level,” he reported. “Tickle registers went from zero to 3 within moments, but have since slowed down.” He briefly glanced at a different readout. “We’re at level 5 now but still building slowly.”

“We’re sitting down at a desk,” Awareness reported next. “No motion issues, and no proximity to coworkers at this time.”

There was some relief evidenced at that news. This might turn out to be one of the better situations they’d encountered lately. They had experienced far worse predicaments: operating any kind of machinery, for instance – particularly vehicles – was always a tricky one. And everyone still remembered that unfortunate Stair Incident.

“Nobody nearby,” the Commander commented. “There’s a break! It’s never a good thing when there’s a crowd around; far too much danger of collateral contamination.”

It was a sentiment echoed by the Crew.

Because of their current sitting position, Balance had no urgent issues at the moment. He remained buckled in, however; one never knew when emergency action might be necessary.

Countermeasures turned suddenly and urgently spoke. “Commander, analysis of Awareness’ sensor data indicates… no tissues within visible range!”

The tension in the room spiked momentarily, but the Commander, an old hand at this sort of thing, was used to it. “Not to worry, people!” He calmly said to his Crew, then turned to face the Countermeasures operator. “I’m sure we’ll find something. We’ve been campaigning for a long time with this subject, and experience has demonstrated there’s always something available. Initiate a direct scan.”

There was a moment of silence as the screens reflected the view shifting quickly, first to the left, and then to the right. Within seconds a solution was spotted.

“There!” Detection exclaimed, a bit too loudly. (Detection was always the excitable one.) “A stack of paper napkins on the side desk! Sensors confirm quantity, density, and cleanliness are adequate!”

“I’m on it, Commander,” Countermeasures called. “Initiating the grab now.”

The room visibly calmed as the news sank in. There was a brief pause while Detection studied his screens further. “Commander, indications are that external abrasion may be a problem if used too often.”

There was a moment of calm. It was short-lived, however. Sudden alarms began once again, this time a more insistent whoop-whoop-whoop. The flashing yellow lights all changed to a steady, bright red.

Detection relayed the news. “Pressure rapidly moving up to level 8 and nearing threshold, Commander! I think he’s gonna blow!”

“Steady, everyone; you know what to do.” The Commander replied quickly, then went on. “Awareness, I want to know instantly if proximity becomes an issue. Balance, get ready for the backlash. Give us constant updates, Detection. We don’t need any surprises.”

“Aye, Commander,” they acknowledged. Detection continued, “Pressure still building. Now at level 9.”

Countermeasures quickly added, “Substitute tissue acquisition successful and nearly in position, Commander. I think we’re good!”

“Thank you, Countermeasures,” the Commander replied. “Where are we now, Detection?”

“Just about to level 10, Commander. Recommend you hit the button.”

“OK, people, let’s batten down the hatches. I think we may have a winner this time!”

Commands quickly flashed throughout the installation; both viewports shut tight, an emergency surge of energy sent throughout the installation briefly stiffened the entire structure while simultaneously limiting available motion, and both intake apertures opened fully as air reservoirs filled in preparation for the anticipated blast.

The Crew awaited anxiously to see whether or not they would reach the Omega Point. Time seemed to stretch for a few seconds. The sensation was similar to that moment on a roller coaster just prior to that first, big drop.

Suddenly a gong sounded. The red light changed to a bright blue.

The Commander turned quickly, but Detection was already reporting. “Transients detected, Commander. Pressure has dropped; I repeat; dropped to level 9. Still dropping. Level 8. Level 6.”

“Looks like a false alarm after all,” the Commander muttered sourly after a few moments. He touched another button on his console, and the alarms fell silent. The lights switched back to flashing yellow once again. “Keep an eye out, though.”

More commands, canceling previous orders. Air reserves slowly returned to their normal intake-outflow cycle. Energy levels normalized, releasing structural joints for full freedom of movement once more. The viewports reopened.

“I guess we dodged a bullet this time, people. Detection, stay alert for at least a few more moments. These things tend to come in multiples, you know.”

“Aye, Sir,” Detection replied. “Pressure almost back to normal levels. Tickle registers now below detection thresholds.” He looked up from his console, for the first time relaxed enough to smile a bit. “I’d say it’s over, Commander.”

The Commander smiled back, more easily this time. All remaining tension flowed out of the room as if down a drain. It was time to validate his crew.

“Detection, on the money as always. Awareness, good job on finding a quick replacement. Looks like our campaign is working. Countermeasures, your acquisition was right on the mark. Balance, I’m glad we didn’t need you after all.” He chuckled ruefully. “I so hate it when we do!”

The Commander relaxed in his chair, once again spoke to the ceiling. “Main Control, back to you.”

“Acknowledged,” the distant voice replied.

He released his restraints and stood up. “Let’s stand down, people.”

The team arose and left the room with him, heading off to their various off-duty occupations. The Commander smiled to himself as he headed back to his cabin, glad to see another potential incident over and done with.

Soon the room was empty once again. Until next time.

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Sheesh! All that buildup and then – no sneeze after all. Man, I hate it when that happens!