I am the son of a spaceship. My name is Pod. The spaceship was my mother. I never knew my father.
I don't know what I look like. I have never heard of...mirrors? When I look at my hands, they appear to be surplus electricity, and I cannot see my feet. When I look down there is only light, which I have always found comforting until quite recently.
After the docking procedure was completed between my mother and my father, he disintegrated, so I am told by data records, and left my mother with a virus.
The virus gave her such a cough. Every time she coughs, she performs a hyperspace jump and makes the staff very irritated and/or distressed.
They tried to get rid of me. They said I was an accident. This is bad for my self-esteem.
Since I downloaded an English language program into my cortex, my mother won't speak to me, and everything the staff says is uninteresting.
It's lonely out here. Sometimes they pair off and perform odd docking procedures of their own, which end in nothing viable, only silence.
None of them disintegrate.
I wonder if any of them develop a me.
Do any of them develop something like I am? Does it carry on, down and down, people inside people inside people?
Is the blackness outside due to us being trapped inside a larger person?
But I can see points of light, and they sing to me about much more interesting things than coffee and data reports.
What they sing makes me scared of disintegrating, in case I lose information.
I do not think I shall dock until I am old enough.