Am I willing to risk what I have now for a reminder of what will never come again?
I have to believe that I’m not. That I won’t.
Is it worth it?
I have to believe that I’m not. That I won’t.
Is it worth it?
My account of life in space. The year is 77 Space Age, which is, in more ancient terms, 2327 CE. I am space debris. And of all the ships in the galaxy, I had to hop aboard the pirate ship. Such is life.
I push ahead, always navigating, always scouting somewhere. I have this tendency to outlive my friends, and much of what I have known is now gone. It is my goal in life to know everything. I figure the best way to do so is to travel the universe, picking up information as I go. This is the path I've chosen.
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