Some days it felt like half the city was falling apart at the seams.
Robert Duffman had just finished repairing two major power junctions, six water dispensers (one of which had somehow managed to spray orange juice all over his suit), and a handhold that popped out completely halfway through his repair job and beaned him in the head before floating into an air duct. So far, the day was not shaping up well.
Better than being an office janitor back on Earth, he thought to himself as he neared the next maintenance hatch. He could be cleaning up vomit and candy wrappers; instead, he was cleaning floating vomit and candy wrappers out of complex machinery that people's lives depended on, and then hoping to hell that he didn't destroy said complex machinery trying to make it work again. He opened the hatch into a secluded corner full of strapped-up maintenance equipment and went for the maintenance-only door into the latest section of the city that was in need of a power drill. At least my job means I don't have to wait in any lines.
Access Denied.
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."