Chapter Text
Shipwide Memo 450-G: On Handrails, Ledges, and the Persistent Existence of “Down”
To all personnel who have ever thought, It’s only a short drop:
Across this war we have encountered: bottomless shafts, reactor cores, ventilation chasms, open lift wells, and at least one civic plaza designed by someone with a grudge against guardrails. The galaxy appears deeply committed to dramatic verticality. Gravity is even more committed to winning.
A few principles, then:
If there is a handrail, use it. It is not merely decorative. It is there because someone, somewhere, missed their footing and did not get a second chance. One hand on the rail, eyes on your path, especially when running, arguing over comms, or carrying anything labeled volatile.
If there is no handrail, you will pretend there is one. Hug the wall, shorten your stride, and keep at least a meter between you and the edge. “I know this walkway” is not an adequate counterargument to physics. Nor is “I’ve jumped worse.”
Do not sit on ledges. Do not lean back on them to make a point. Do not perch equipment where a careless elbow can promote it to meteor. The abyss does not need feeding.
Operational note: if you are first on a site inspection and find a catwalk over nothing with no barrier, you are authorized to say “absolutely not,” call it in, and reroute. We will fight the war somewhere that does not require a safety lecture from the void.
Regards,
General Obi-Wan Kenobi
P.S. If your last thought before stepping closer is “this would look terrible on the incident report,” step back.
Addendum: Remember your humanity.