Etchings and Scribbles

The stars crept back into my vision as I came to, a soft, seeking light that became white hot daggers in my pupils the more conscious I became. I raised an arm to shield myself but quickly realized it was the only thing propping me up. I tipped over, my arms flailing out in my panic. Thankfully I was already sitting down, but it was still enough motion for my recent head wound to remind me: StationSec decided I wasn’t worth a tranq round, a taser, even handcuffing, or even simple conversation. No, they decided to nail me with the butt of a lasrifle evidently. Fantastic. I reached up gingerly to probe the area and discovered a warm, squishy autostitcher patch. I guess that means it’s been going for a while, which also meant I’ve been out for longer. So, they wanted me alive.. but also concussed? It's no wonder the budget for StationSec was so high if this is how they went about getting convictions. The patch began squirming again, tiny arms the size of hairs moving, injecting, debri...

The airlock doors whooshed open, a sea of stale air washing over me as I left my shuttle. I needed a moment to feel safe, to pretend I hadn’t just been jumped on my way back from a salvage run, and nothing quite hit that mark like coming home. The main concourse felt empty, abandoned, strange because there’s usually a decent chunk of people milling around down here. Whatever, Dock 2A wasn’t for tourists, this was one of the commercial platforms. I pulled my tablet out, intent on submitting a complaint, nothing like getting mugged!. I watched the slow boot process scroll past, skimming for any updates or possible bulletins. ———————————————————————————————————————————————————
 EagleOS 2.4.3 R4.1 
BIOS version 4.98
 Kernel version 88.4.3 LTS
 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>> LOG.INIT :: TS<ERROR LDST NOT SET USING PST>: 08:05:33 :: [BRK-GL1] “Brady-Ridley-Kepler welcomes you to our station!”  >> * * Be sure to try the new Strawnana R...

 I open my eyes, I'm in a strange place. Like a hotel lobby that's seen better days on a deserted stretch of highway. There is furniture, shabby but serviceable. I look around, trying to get my bearings only for there to suddenly be no walls or ceiling.. or.. everything has moved so far away that I can't make them out on the horizon. Everything has the pale yellow-orange tint of aged cigarette smoke and the gloss of plastic. Suddenly someone is standing next to me holding a clipboard.. tablet? They write (type?) on it without looking at me. "First one we've had in a while," I hear them say, but I don't see their mouth move. I try to make out their facial features.. at best they appear feminine, something like a secretary? Waiter? The harder I look the more the features and even their clothing shift. I shut my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose. "Don't try too hard, you're still adjusting," they continue, the hotel lobby comes back and I f...