text: I stand in the docking bay, it reminds me of a giant pigeon hole, opening up into space. The cavern is dwarfed only by the fact that I know that hundreds of openings like this encrust the structure. Utilitarian spaces like this are most definitely not human (or sentience) friendly. Huge structures careen about the expanse, carrying out the arcane tasks surrounding intergalactic mass transit. Pulling ships into dock, transferring cargo, ferrying matter and energy around like playthings. I've chosen to present in my human sim again, 'mostly for the vices that come with it', I muse as I drag on my cigarette. A looming, pockmarked orb floats over to me. This must be Bezerk, a roiling ball of plasma in a nest-space, contained inside a Neopodian transport pod. Garlorkians can move fairly quickly in the physical space, so the transport pods don't hold much advantage for them, but they keep their surroundings intact. I quickly do a frequency check, and then link in. Bezerk appears abruptly in my comms field. He brings my ship into focus and sputters, "This is the ship that you claim can take us through the Inactive Zone undetected?" It's translated from Garlax, (an energy/matter based language), through Neopod universal, and into an analogue of Earth tongue I find easiest to operate in, but I can still hear his cynicism. No matter to me, he's paid up, and ready to load, it's not my job to make him feel good about the whole thing. "I'll send through docking protocols - accept them and the ship will lift you into its containment field," I say brusquely, turning to the ship. As I see his sphere elevate and get swallowed into my ship, I prepare for the meld. Switching from terrestrial to ship-state is something I'll never get used to. No matter the sim or bot I use, I generally go bipedal, one head, two legs, that sort of thing. Either a genetic memory turned digital, or maybe just vanity. Either way, transferring to ship-mind feels weird. Instead of the fairly standard mammalian sensor network I grew up - hands, feet and skin, a visual input across a fairly narrow spectrum - I have information feeding into my consciousness from an array of sensors in and around the ship. Air pressure, gamma levels, radiation, all presented as data arrays, and interpreted as an almost physical experience. Instead of muscle memory telling me I can jump, crouch, laugh or shit, I know with a thought I can undock, pivot in zero-G, and trigger fusion reactions that push me across the galaxy. It's weird, but it's exhilarating once I get my space legs. The only problem is the itches. For some reason, even after all the advances in neurotechnology, the older sentient humanoid bases like myself can't shake some bodily impulses. There's nothing worse than crossing the void with an itch you can't scratch, the twinge of a phantom body part left on a moon a few thousand years ago.