they say in space, "no one can hear you scream." well, they can't hear the low drone of the internal power generators kick on again when you're half way to nowhere. i can. i work for a shipping company called "intergalactic transport." i travel back and forth from rock to rock carrying those two all important gems- salt and vinegar. there's a lot of time to kill up here so i downloaded a grandma program and she's been teaching me how to quilt. there's no "log cabins" or "poinsettias" around so i just stare out the window until something catches my eye. it's nice every once in a while to shoot the shit with a fellow traveler, or get caught up in the new dawn celebrations in the outer rim, but mostly it's just me; with a lot of time on my hands.